Upon Consent of the King
by K8Malloy
Summary: The Writ of Marriage requires brides & grooms to meet with the king, or a designee. Within the Writ, the Consent of the King article allows for the designee to command a bride or groom to attend them for no more than 25 hours. Despite objections from his parents, Lord Blaine Anderson will be paid a visit by Prince Kurt before permission will be granted to wed to Lady Rachel Berry
1. The Writ of Marriage

**A/N: **Friday is my second favorite 'F' word … and I love the folklore that surrounds the derivation of the other 'F' word – as inaccurate as it is. Still, it gave me this plot bunny. Fornication Upon Consent of the King indeed.

I loved when Glee aired on Tuesday nights. My week just seemed to go faster. Then, when it moved to Friday nights, it often meant I couldn't watch until the weekend. In honor of Glee, I'll be updating this story on Tuesdays &amp; Fridays until all the chapters are posted.

**Warnings:** This is rated M for a reason. There will be adult sexual situations (consensual), adult language, references to physical abuse (not described in detail) and references to non-consensual sexual encounters (not described in detail). If any of these situations will cause you discomfort, please do not continue further. There are many other excellent stories out there to pick from.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters from Glee.

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Standing as part of the law of the land for over three hundred years, the _Writ of Marriage_ requires each impending bride and groom to meet with the king, or his designated representative, prior to their nuptial ceremony. Within the Writ, the _Consent of the King_ article states: "At the discretion of the king [amendment: _or designee_], the bride [amendment: _or groom_] will be commanded to attend the king [amendment: _or designee_] for a duration of no more than 25 hours. Any and all actions taken by the king [amendment: _or designee_] shall not be used as justification to dissolve the intended Writ of Marriage.

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**Upon Consent of the King**

"By signing here," Lady Lopez indicated the lines at the bottom of the parchment, "you are indicating your understanding that King Burt, or a designated representative, will be calling upon your households, and … if he, or his representative, decide the situation warrants, you will be summoned to the royal palace – possibly, to submit to the Consent of the King article."

Holding out the quill, she scrutinized the young couple sitting anxiously in front of her large oak desk. The younger son of Duke Anderson and only daughter of the Earls Berry had applied for a Writ of Marriage. The presence of all four parents drew Santana's suspicion. In her experience, love matches didn't require the heavy-handed '_encouragement'_ of parental chaperones.

It left three possibilities.

Lady Berry had found herself with child and Lord Anderson had been judged an acceptable match.

Duke Anderson desired to quash the rumors of his son's preferences and Lady Rachel had been judged highly unlikely to accept any dalliances after vows were exchanged.

Or Santana was wrong and these two young adults were truly in love.

Which really left two possibilities because the only time Santana had been wrong happened several years prior when she'd hesitated to apply for the position of High Clerk, believing that King Burt would, like his predecessor, only desire a man in the role.

She'd allowed herself to be persuaded to apply by her best friend, Brittany.

Thankfully, King Burt turned out to be exceptionally forward thinking.

Lady Santana Lopez held the office of High Clerk of the Court and had just celebrated three years of marriage to Countess Brittany Pierce. She had King Burt to thank for both.

The shaking of Lord Blaine Anderson's hand as he took the quill from her did not escape scrutiny. With forced deliberateness he dipped the quill into the ink well and scratched out a signature before offering it to Lady Berry.

"I cannot believe," grumbled Duke Anderson, "that with all the _changes _King Burt has enacted, he's allowed the Consent of the King article to continue. It seems to me that instead of sending his sons out to do as they please, he'd have ended that archaic law."

Arching an eyebrow, Santana leaned back in her chair and met Duke Anderson's gaze. "I'm sure King Burt will be positively fascinated to learn your opinions, Your Grace. As it stands, your families should expect the Princes to call on your households within the next ten days."

Lady Rachel moved to hand the quill back to Santana, asking softly, "Are you allowed to tell us whether it will be Prince Kurt or Prince Finn who will call?"

As Santana opened her mouth to answer, Duke Anderson interrupted.

"We formally request Prince Hudson, Lady Lopez. His mother, Carole and my wife served as Ladies in Waiting to the King's mother.

"Lovely," Santana responded, remonstration filling her tone. "I'll be sure to mention that … tidbit … of information to the Queen-Consort this evening. Perhaps she'll encourage Prince Finn to stop by."

Turning back to face Lady Rachel, Santana shook her head softly. "To answer your question, the Princes keep their own appointment calendars. I send the list of households needing … attention … to their Head Squires. From there, the duties are divided as best suits the needs and responsibilities of the Princes. I can, as I've alluded to, put in a request if that is what you seek. However, I cannot guarantee it will be met."

"Oh," replied Lady Rachel, her gaze dropping to her hands held tightly in her lap. "Thank you, Lady Lopez."

Lord Blaine cleared his throat, pulling the room's focus to him. "Lady Lopez, I have heard that since the Princes have taken over the Consent duties from King Burt that they rarely visit both households involved in the Writ of Marriage. Is this true?"

"Not that you should be sharing gossip with your brother, but that would be one more reason for Prince Finn to visit our household," grumbled Duke Anderson. "Prince Kurt would certainly be a better choice for Lady Rachel, don't you think, Your Lordships?" He glared pointedly towards the Earls.

The Earls Berry exchanged a glace before landing Duke Anderson with two confused countenances. "I suppose, that … _might_ … be true. Your Grace," offered Earl LeRoy.

"Father!" interjected Blaine. "Just. Just what do you mean by that?"

Steepling her fingers, Santana leaned forward just a bit. "Yes ,Your Grace, please expound on your observations about Prince Kurt. Why exactly do you feel he'd be a better choice to interview Lady Rachel?"

Drawing himself up, Duke Anderson cocked his head to the side, before giving Santana the look that told her she, and this entire process, was beneath him. "It's clear, given Prince Kurt's … proclivities … that he and Lady Rachel would have more to discuss. The frippery. The trifles. The baubles. Those sorts of things."

In her younger days, Santana might have physically attacked the Duke – despite his rank – for his insinuations. As the years had passed, she had found a variety of _other_ ways to get back at those who drew forth her anger. But before she had gathered her words to verbally eviscerate him where he sat, the Duke's son exploded.

Bursting to his feet, Blaine whirled on his father, shouting, "So because the Prince likes men instead of women, he must be interested in ladies' things? Is that _really_ what you think?"

"Don't shout, Blaine," ordered the Duke, standing up to tower over his younger son. "It's unbecoming for someone of your standing."

Drawing in a breath, Blaine spat, "The Prince is a **Knight** in the _Royal Army_, father. Do you think they just gave him that title?"

"And his father **is** the King. He could be missing two legs and an arm and he would _still_ be a Knight in the Royal Army. Don't be stupid, Blaine."

The sound of the door opening drew everyone's attention as a tall, closely shorn man wearing the tabard of the Royal Army stepped inside. "I heard shouting, Lady Lopez. Is all well?" His eyes jumped from one person to the next, carefully seeking out any point of danger.

Offering the man a smile, Santana waved her hand. "All is fine, Sir Spencer. We were just … finishing up here. Did the Prince send you?"

Spencer's gaze was locked with that of Lord Blaine, who had paled considerably when the knight had entered the small room. "Yes, m'lady," he answered without looking at her. "Kurt would like to see you at your earliest convenience. He'll be in the practice yard for some time."

"Very well. You will have to excuse me, my Lords," Santana said, standing and gathering the paperwork to her. "The Writ has been signed by both parties. You will be notified by a court page at least three days prior to a visit from the King's designees so that you may prepare accordingly. Good day."

Catching Sir Spencer's eye, she quickly added, "See the Duke out. I think he and the Earls Berry would appreciate seeing Sword Master Beiste run the knights through their paces before they leave. Thank you."

"Of course, m'lady," Spencer answered automatically, although her request raised a thousand questions. Santana always asked the knights if they _could_ complete a task for her – never commanded, although her rank allowed for such. If time allowed, he'd ask about it later.

As Lord Blaine left the High Clerk's office, Sir Spencer placed his fingertips on the small of his back, aware of the inadvertent flinch Blaine reacted with. "Marriage?" he whispered. "To Lady Berry?"

As his eyes filled with moisture, Blaine shook his head sharply once, indicated his inability to speak freely. Instead, he surreptitiously swiped at the tears and hurried after Lady Rachel, linking arms with her as they ambled down the courtyard path.


	2. The Prince's High Horse

**A/N:** Alright my pretties (I can call you that, yes?) - Friday is going to be super busy for me, so I am posting a bit early. That's okay, I love waking up to your reviews. Hope you have a lovely weekend &amp; I'll see you on Tuesday!

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As Lady Lopez had said, the missive announcing the impending visit of the King's designee had been delivered to the Anderson Manor by a court page. The parchment paper had been sealed with purple wax and carried the signet marking of Prince Kurt. Inside, it simply stated the household should be prepared to accept the arrival of Prince Kurt, three days hence, who would interview Lord Blaine Anderson in regards to his request for a Writ of Marriage. Lord Anderson should anticipate spending several hours in the company of the Prince, and therefore should reschedule any commitments made previously.

The Duke had crumpled up the letter and thrown it into the fireplace, watching it smolder in the ashes before pouring himself the first of several stiff drinks. Livid that Lady Lopez had chosen not to use her considerable influence to bring Prince Finn to their household as he'd insisted, Duke Anderson ordered Blaine to his study, bent on beating his son once again for his lack of discretion that had led the entire family to this threshold. At the last moment, his wife had pointed out that the bruises wouldn't fade in time for his meeting with the prince. But his anger was just as strong as it had been three days ago.

Dressed to meet the Prince, Blaine stood unsteadily before his father listening to the Duke rant.

"You've got one chance at this, boy, _one chance_. If you manage to fumble it, what happened between us after the Masque will look like child's play. Whatever it takes, you will convince the prince to allow this marriage to move forward."

"Yes, sir," Blaine answered quietly.

"The gossip will end, Blaine. One way – or another," the Duke growled.

Gooseflesh broke out on Blaine's arms, despite the room's warmth. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that his father would carry through with his threats to beat Blaine within an inch of his life if he failed to get the prince's approval for his marriage. A loud knock at the door to the study had him jumping in place.

"Enter!" His father continued to glare at Blaine as a member of the household staff entered and bowed at the waist. "His Royal Highness, Prince Kurt, has arrived and requests that Lord Anderson meet him outside."

"What!? burst the Duke.

Blaine met the gaze of the servant, asking, "Are you certain?"

"Yes, m'lord. The prince asked me to fetch you. I believe he means to take you riding. He and his guardsmen are all on horseback. He politely refused our offers to bring him to the Duke's study, insisting that you be brought to him," the servant supplied.

Bowing towards his father, Blaine asked, "By your leave, Your Grace?"

The Duke picked up an apple set into a basket of fruit on his desk and hurled it toward the doorway, just missing the nose of the servant. "Ridiculous!" he shrieked. "You will meet **here**, _in this study_, under my supervision – or not at all." Stalking out of the room, Blaine had no other choice but to follow his father.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the servant who had stooped to pick up the pieces of apple.

"Best of luck, m'lord," the servant replied quietly.

By the time Blaine stepped through the front door and shut it behind him, his father stood arguing with the prince who sat astride a large grey horse. Biting his lip nervously, Blaine hurried down the marble steps and across the gravel path until he stood a few feet behind his father. He was aware that the prince's eyes had tracked him the entire distance.

"You can meet in my study," demanded his father.

Kurt allowed his gaze to drift back to Duke Anderson. "Thank you, Your Grace, but we'll be quite comfortable where we're going."

"But it's … expected," the Duke argued, reaching out to grip the reins of Kurt's horse.

"Exactly," Kurt drawled. "Meeting others' expectations hasn't ever been … part of my agenda, Your Grace."

The Duke's nostrils flared as his anger boiled. "Then I forbid my son to leave in your company. Blaine?" he said, looking back to his son, "go inside the Manor. You'll not meet with His Highness until he comes off his horse and joins you inside."

Amused at the Duke's choice of words, Kurt attempted to cover his snicker with a gloved hand, before turning a hard gaze on the Duke. "I'm not coming down off my high horse, Your Grace. It's one of the benefits of having been born a prince, and not, say, a duke. Lord Blaine may return to the manor, he is your son. However, if he fails to attend today's interview, the Writ of Marriage will be summarily dismissed and a new one will not be granted. Do you need a moment to consider?"

The crunch of gravel drew Kurt's attention away from the Duke's glare and to Lord Blaine who'd moved to stand next to Kurt's saddle. "Lord Anderson," Kurt acknowledged.

"Your Highness," Blaine offered, bowing his head. "I'll come with you. I … I'd like the Writ to move forward … if it pleases you to allow it."

"Well, Your Grace?" Kurt gave the Duke one last time to voice his objection. When Duke Anderson held his tongue, Kurt slipped his foot out of the stirrup and held a hand out to Lord Blaine. "You've ridden double before, Lord Blaine?"

Swallowing hard, Blaine nodded while slipping his hand into the prince's and swung himself up to sit behind the prince.

"We'll return before the sun sets," Kurt declared, tugging the reins from the Duke's hand. "And despite any rumors you may have listened to that suggest otherwise … your son will return to you with his virtue intact. I'm not in the habit of seducing those who are intended for someone else."

Not waiting for a response, Kurt kicked the flanks of his horse, moving away from the distaste Duke Anderson had left in his mouth.

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End Note: Thank you for reading and for the favorites &amp; follows &amp; reviews. The shockingly amazing news is the next four weeks (yes you read that correctly) of updates are written and ready to post - which leaves me time to finish the last 2.5 sections of this story, and the next chapter of Cheer Captain. Hope you have a beautiful weekend. k8.


	3. Memories

As they rode, Blaine had little choice but to wrap his hands around the prince's waist and hold tight. It was clear to Blaine that the prince knew where he was going when they veered further into the forest, taking a trail used mostly by hunters. "Is this commonplace?" he asked against the prince's ear.

Kurt pulled his mount into a walk, and turned slightly in the saddle to glance at Lord Blaine. "Commonplace?"

Ducking his head beneath the prince's shoulder, Blaine replied softly, "Do you often take the people you interview for a horseback ride, Your Highness?"

Laughter bubbled up from Kurt, and he patted Blaine's hands resting on his stomach. "Sometimes, Lord Blaine. Since my brother and I have taken over this duty for my father, I've found that there are times when it's best to … remove the intended from the household in order to hear a more honest answer. You'd hardly be the first bridegroom whose overbearing, arrogant ass of a father feels as if he knows what is best."

Clicking his tongue, Kurt urged his horse forward on the path. Both Santana and Spencer had warned him about their misgivings – both regarding Duke Anderson and the Writ of Marriage the duke's son had requested. He appreciated the warning – although given the blustering of the Duke when he'd arrived, and the shuttered look of Lord Blaine's eyes, Kurt knew it would have taken him naught but a snap of his fingers before he'd figured out the proverbial lay of the land.

A few minutes later they reached one of the many streams that cut through the kingdom. Halting his horse, Kurt helped Blaine climb down before sliding down beside him. "I thought we would talk while sharing a meal," Kurt explained, handing Blaine a clean blanket and his water bag.

When Sir Spencer appeared before them, Kurt took the knapsack from his hands, grinning at his friend. "You were correct."

Spencer smirked at his prince, "Yes. I was. I don't know why you continue to act like that's a rare occurrence, Your Highness." He took the reins of Kurt's mount from him. "We'll give you your privacy. Your Highness. Lord Blaine."

Kurt allowed his friend to walk across the glade before calling out, "Maybe if you hadn't been so wrong in regards to Alistair, I would have more faith in your ability to read people."

Although it was difficult to tell for sure, given Sir Spencer's distance, it appeared as if the knight had given the prince an obscene finger gesture in reply. Surprised at the familiarity between the two men, Blaine looked to the prince for guidance as to what they would do next.

"Shall we have our respite under that oak tree?" Kurt asked, gesturing with his head toward the enormous tree that sat on the bank of the stream. Waiting until Blaine nodded his assent, Kurt led them to the shaded area, laying the knapsack on the ground so he could assist Blaine with spreading out the blanket.

That action complete, Kurt sat and began to undo the laces on his riding boots. "Please," he said, looking up, "make yourself comfortable. There is absolutely no need to stand on ceremony. Not here." He sighed with pleasure as he slipped the second boot off and laid them aside.

Unsure of the proper thing to do, Blaine decided to follow the prince's example, and removed his boots and vest. In the time it had taken to do that, Kurt had laid out the various food items.

"Please, help yourself," he offered softly, picking up several berries and tossing them into his mouth.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Blaine answered politely, selecting a small bunch of grapes to munch on.

"It's Kurt," the prince replied firmly.

"But –"

"You aren't allowed to object, Lord Blaine. I insist, here at least, you refer to me by my given name. Short of that, I suppose I'll just have to toss you over my knee and turn your bottom the same pleasing color as your cheeks," he teased gently, giving the young lord a wink and shy smile. "You're quite beautiful when you blush."

" . Kurt. I. Thank you," fumbled Blaine, glancing between the Prince and the three guards who were far enough away to give them privacy but still do their duty to the prince. "Will you … will you call me Blaine?"

"You are welcome. Blaine." Kurt helped himself to several strawberries, dipping them into a chocolate sauce before biting into the sweetness. Moaning, his eyes closed for a moment as the flavor burst forth over his tongue. "Here," he said, dipping another strawberry through the sauce, "you simply must try this." Brushing the berry across Blaine's lips, Kurt waited until Blaine accepted the offering and then again for his reaction.

"Delicious," Blaine whispered, running the tip of his tongue around his lips to capture the lingering flavor of the chocolate. "We really could have hosted you at our estate," Blaine commented scooping up some oil and vinegar on crusty bread. It dribbled down the side of his hand, and he chased it with his tongue until he realized the Prince was watching him intently. "Or at least allowed our cooks to prepare their dishes for you."

"Honestly," Kurt replied with a half shrug, "it's safer this way. I don't have to worry about someone slipping poison into my meals if I bring it with me."

Blaine's eyes grew wide. "Is that seriously a concern?"

"Unfortunately," Kurt lamented with another quiet shrug. "It's how I lost my mother." Blaine's gasp of shock reached his ears as he scooped on a piece of bread and began tearing it into tiny pieces, tossing them to the birds. "Actually, we think it was intended for me – the poison only showed up in my meal. But I didn't like carrots, and she … she was showing me." Kurt had to stop when his throat tightened at the memory.

Thoughts turned inwards, Kurt wasn't aware Blaine had moved to sit next to him until the young man stilled the restless destruction of bread. Blowing his bangs off is forehead, Kurt leaned against the oak tree, leaving his hand in Lord Blaine's palm. "I was eight. I haven't eaten a carrot since," he shared.

"I'm so sorry, Your Highness," Blaine whispered, squeezing the prince's hand.

"It's Kurt," he reminded with a smile.

"I didn't mean to bring up unhappy memories," continued Blaine.

Turning to face Lord Blaine, Kurt looked deep into the man's eyes, noting the swirls of gold, and brown, and green. "No memories of my mother are unhappy, Blaine."

They sat silent for long minutes, watching the stream as it rambled past, insects darting to and fro. "I rather enjoy eating outdoors," Kurt commented. "No rules of etiquette. No worrying about someone's judgement because I picked up the wrong fork or knife. Enjoying food should be a tactile experience."

Reaching out, Kurt gathered several olives, offering them first to Blaine before popping the rest into his mouth, chewing slowly. "Why is your father pushing for this marriage to Lady Berry?"


	4. Regrets

"Why is your father pushing for this marriage to Lady Berry," he asked softly, carefully observing Blaine's reaction even as the young lord's hand tensed in his.

"He's no-"

Placing his index finger on Blaine's lips, Kurt's allowed his gaze to harden. "Stop. This only continues if you are committed to being honest."

Blaine dropped his head. "He's upset about some … gossip … that has been spreading since the Masquerade held by Duke Smythe."

Leaning forward, Kurt placed a finger under Blaine's chin, tipping his head up until they could see into each other's eyes again. "You and Duke Smythe's son were in the maze together." Kurt could see the trembling of Blaine's lips, and watched as the young man pulled his hands into fists.

"Technically," Blaine hissed as his face flushed at the idea that even Prince Kurt had heard of his altercation with Lord Sebastian. "I _was_ in the maze. Sebastian was there as well."

Kurt took one of Blaine's fists and gently peeled his fingers back. "Why don't you tell me _your_ side of the story, Blaine? And how it pertains to your father and his wishes."

Wrapping his arms around his knees, Blaine tipped his head so he could look over at the prince. "I went to the maze to get away from the other courtiers. All the ladies vying for attention, hoping to gain a marriage match. The colors and the music and the perfume – it was all giving me a headache. I went outside to clear my head."

"Lord Sebastian followed me. He … cornered me … and offered to … to ...," Blaine shuddered at the memory. "I wasn't interested – and I told Lord Sebastian in so many words. But he insisted – reminding me that he'd seen me staring at some of the guardsmen as they were drilling in the yard."

Blaine took a deep breath and rested his chin on his arms, staring off into the distance. "I was. Staring at the men. And although some may find Lord Smythe pleasing to look at … his inner cesspool bleeds through too much for my taste. Despite my attempts to shove him away, he used his height and weight to his advantage, holding me down on a bench, forcing his mouth on mine. Rutting against me like a dog."

Blaine unconsciously rubbed his thigh, as if to remove the dirty feeling the encounter had left. "I didn't know if I should just submit to get it over with faster, or continue to fight him off. It was quite likely the most frightening moment of my life, to that point. That's how Sir Porter found us."

Kurt looked over his shoulder at his friend and guard, who was surreptitiously glancing towards Blaine. "Spencer was there?"

Blaine nodded against his arms. "He saved me. After taking one look at us, he realized what was happening wasn't consensual. All I knew was Sebastian was torn away from me and a man I'd never met punched Lord Smythe in the jaw. Sir Porter helped me to my feet and led me out of the maze, Sebastian chasing after. I know when the others in the garden saw us, our clothing askew, they drew their own conclusions - assuming incorrectly that Sir Porter and Lord Smythe had engaged in fisticuffs over who was going to have me."

Snorting, Kurt murmured, "Whoever started those rumors doesn't know Spence. He's head over heels in love with his husband, Alistair. And Lord Sebastian is a chipmunk-faced cad who smells of last week's kitchen scraps."

Giving the prince a weak smile, Blaine leaned back against the oak tree. "My father was told of the rumors – that I was trysting with men – and … had a fit. When the bruising on my face had faded, he dragged me to meet Lady Rachel and informed me that her fathers had agreed to a marriage."

It was Kurt's turn to widen his eyes in shock. "Your father beat you? Because he thought you were attracted to men?" Kurt knew things like this happened, but to hear it from Lord Blaine's lips made him want to strangle the Duke. Slowly.

"I _am_ attracted to men," Blaine offered quietly. "And yes, he did. And then he arranged a marriage to a woman who has been raised **by** two men. Apparently his bigotry only extends to his immediate family. We can be thankful for that. But that's also why he was so upset when you arrived – instead of Prince Finn."

Kurt hummed in understanding. "I see. So he's the sort that assumes all we do is strip naked and fuck at each and every opportunity. Do you think he's met Lord Sebastian?" he teased.

Chuckling, Blaine nudged Kurt with his shoulder. "Yes, that's what he thinks. Which is ironic because other than my encounter with Lord Sebastian, I've not touched or been touched by another man. Or woman."

"I believe, Lord Blaine, that is the most shocking thing you've told me today," Kurt flirted, dropping a palm to his heart. "No one has swept you off your feet? Literally? No one has enticed you into a darkened corner at a festival? What is wrong with the young lords of our generation?"

Blaine couldn't keep the grin from his face at the prince's flirtatious behavior. "Flatterer."

"I've been called worse things." Pleased that he'd managed to get the smile back on Lord Blaine's face, Kurt was loathe to continue asking the questions required of him. But duty called. "Blaine, how **do** you feel about your marriage to Lady Rachel?"

The light in Blaine's eyes shuttered as he answered, "I will endeavor to be the best husband I can. To provide for her. To care for her. To honor my vows to her."

"And those are lovely sentiments, Blaine. But will you love her? What will happen when she wants to begin a family? Will you be able to provide her with children?" Kurt knew the questions would feel like a punch in the gut to Blaine.

Silent for a time, Blaine shoved to his feet and offered a hand to Kurt. "Walk with me?"

"Of course."

Blaine carefully climbed down the embankment, and stepped into the stream, looking for the tiny minnows that always came to investigate. Prince Kurt took a moment to roll up hose he was wearing before joining Blaine in the water. "I'll love her," Blaine admitted softly, "but I won't **be** in love with her. And if she seeks children from me …" he stopped to swipe at the moisture that had begun to fill his eyes, "I don't know. I'd like children. I suppose I'll just close my eyes and think of someone else."

The prince reached out and tugged Blaine into his arms. "Is that really the life you want for yourself, Blaine?" he whispered into the chocolate colored curls, his hands rubbing soothing circles on Blaine's back.

"It's the life I'm choosing, Your Highness. I'm walking into this with open eyes."

"But not an open heart, Blaine." Without thinking, Kurt placed a soft kiss on Blaine's temple. "What about regrets, Blaine? What will you regret if this marriage goes forth?"

"This," Blaine whispered. "Never being held in the strength of another man's arms. Never learning how it feels to have a man's lips caress my own. To feel his body moving against my own. Inside my own." Ripping himself away from the prince, Blaine ran – ran from his emotions, ran from his father's expectations, ran from his prince."

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_End Note: This one's for Connie. You will be missed. _


	5. In the Clutches of an Intolerable Oaf

"Blaine! Wait!"

Sprinting down the edge of the stream, Blaine was unprepared for the tackle that forced him into the chilly waters. He had time to brace for a heavy impact that never came as his opponent rolled, taking the brunt of the blow to his own body.

Sitting up, Blaine wiped water from his face before the slow realization struck him that Prince Kurt's arm was wrapped tightly around his waist, keeping Blaine between the prince's long legs. "Let me go, Kurt," he grunted, trying to force the prince's arm from his body.

"I don't think so," Kurt answered softly wrapping his other arm across Blaine's chest, holding firmly to his shoulder. "Please don't fight me. I'm truly only trying to help."

"You can help by unhanding me and forgetting I ever said any of those things," Blaine growled out, wriggling like a fish against Kurt's strength.

"Promise me you won't run again," Kurt negotiated calmly.

Slapping the water hard with both arms, Blaine roared in frustration. "Fine. I promise."

Loosening his hold, Kurt gripped Blaine's hips, lifting him from the water. "I usually bring an extra set of clothing and a drying cloth when I intend to go swimming," he muttered, standing up.

Crossing his arms, Blaine narrowed his eyes. "It's your own fault. No one asked you to chase me down. No one asked you to tackle me into the stream. No one asked you to pry into my life – into my head."

"Your king asked me to pry into your head, Blaine. I'm sorry my questions caused you discomfort. The kingdom benefits when its citizens aren't being forced into unhappy marriages against their will." Kurt paused in his lecture to yank off his shirt, wringing the water back into the stream. "A marriage to a Lady Rachel shouldn't leave you with a lifetime of regrets."

"**It's my choice**, Your Highness," Blaine shouted.

He never saw it coming. One moment he stood in the water, facing Kurt. In the next, he had been thrown over Kurt's shoulder, the prince's hand landing hard against his bottom. What should have been a yelp of pain, ended up coming out more as a pleasurable grunt.

"It's Kurt," the prince offered dryly. "And you were warned. Repeatedly."

"Put me down!"

"Your Highness?" interrupted a voice from above.

Kurt raised his free hand to shade his eyes, spotting Sir Spencer several lengths away at the top of the embankment. "Hello, Spence."

"Shall I comment on your inventive interviewing techniques, or assume that everything is okay between yourself and Lord Anderson?" While he did an admirable job of schooling his face, it was clear from Spencer's tone that he found the tableau before him highly amusing.

"Sir Porter," came Blaine's muffled voice, "I already owe you one debt of gratitude for saving me from the clutches of an intolerable oaf … would it be beyond your tolerance to assist me once again?" From his position, it was impossible for Blaine to stare anywhere but Kurt's ass – clad in tight, and thanks to the water, nearly translucent hose.

Kurt allowed Blaine to slip from his shoulder, but locked his grip on Blaine's biceps. "Did you just call me an oaf? Spencer," he said, turning his gaze to the knight, "did he just call me an intolerable oaf?"

"If the shoe fits, Kurt," Spencer teased dryly.

Grabbing his shirt from the water where it had fallen when he'd grabbed Blaine, Kurt wadded it up and threw it to Spencer. "Make yourself a useful knight," he grumbled as he all but ripped Blaine's shirt off of his body as well. "Find a bush and hang these to dry. Wait," he ordered as Spencer made to leave. Sliding his fingers into his waistband, Kurt shucked off his hose, leaving him standing in the water totally nude.

"No undergarments, Your Highness?" Spencer commented drolly as he wrung the water from the clothing.

"It would spoil the line of the hose," Kurt retorted, turning to look at Blaine. "You should give your leggings to Spencer. They'll dry more quickly."

Blaine shot Kurt an unamused look. "Oh, now you give me a choice," before pulling off his own pants and giving them over to Sir Spencer.

When Spencer was far enough away not to overhear his words, Kurt stepped close to Blaine. "I will always give you a choice. Just don't expect for there to be no consequences to what you choose." His voice gave out as Blaine raised his hand and began to lightly trace a scar than ran about two fingers above his heart making his hair, and other things stand on end.

Clearing his throat, Kurt murmured, "Actions sometimes have unintended consequences." Catching Blaine's eye, Kurt dropped his gaze downward towards his semi-erect cock.

Gazing his fill, Blaine continued to stroke the scar on Kurt's chest as he took a step closer. "How did this happen?"

"Well, it usually happens when an attractive man caresses my body," Kurt chuckled. "Or did you mean the scar? I was fighting dragons."

Looking up, Blaine scoffed at Kurt's words. "Dragons don't exist."

"You're not the only one to have to fight off unwanted advances," whispered Kurt. "In my world, dragons have existed for a very long time. Sometimes they leave scars you can see. Other times we carry them on the inside."

Exhaling loudly, Blaine pushed up onto his toes, bringing his lips against Kurt's. Neither one of them moved for several long moments until Blaine broke whatever spell they were under, sliding his hands up Kurt's chest to wrap around his neck, fingering the short hairs at his neck.

Dazed, it took Kurt a moment to catch up to what was happening. Blaine's lips against his; Blaine's arms tangled around his neck; Blaine's athletic form pressed against his own. When Blaine didn't pull away, Kurt skimmed his hands around Blaine until he was able to grasp the rounded cheeks of his ass, tugging the man more tightly against his chest.

After an undetermined amount of time, Kurt loosened his hold, allowing Blaine to stand on his own as they both sought to catch their breaths.

Taking a step back, Blaine looked at Kurt with eyes dark with desire. "I'm s-"

"Don't apologize."


	6. The Rash Remains

They'd returned to their blanket under the oak tree, finishing the meal as their clothing dried on a nearby bush. Embarrassed by his forward behavior, Blaine didn't say much as he enjoyed the variety of dishes the castle's cooks had sent forth with the prince. For his part, Kurt didn't want to further Blaine's unease, so he made minimal conversation about trivial matters – the shape of the passing clouds, a new minstrel group he'd had the opportunity to host at the castle, and the like.

After a while, Kurt packed up what remained, and stretched out on the blanket, hands behind his head as he looked up through the thousands of leaves providing them with shade.

A fit of coughing from Blaine pulled his attention from a pair of squirrels leaping from branch to branch. "Are you alright?"

Waving away the question, Blaine fought to control his fit. When it finally passed, he offered an embarrassed smile. "You caught me by surprise, is all. I've not met someone as … comfortable in his own skin as you, Your. Kurt."

"I could cover myself with the edge of the blanket if it would make you more comfortable," offered Kurt.

"That's not necessary," Blaine replied hurriedly. "I find I'm rather appreciative of the view.

Turning on his side to face Blaine who leaned against the tree, Kurt made a feeble attempt to cover his grin. "Thank you."

Blaine had meant to tell the prince he was welcome to the compliment, but what came out of his traitorous mouth was, "When did you first kiss another man?"

"You are so very far away, sitting there. Come down next to me and I will tell you whatever you wish." Kurt held out a hand, unsure of Lord Blaine would end up accepting his offer. He was pleased when he did.

He ran his fingers through the curls on Blaine's forehead, breaking them into smaller ringlets. "I was sixteen or seventeen and I had just finished a short relationship with Lady Pierce."

"You courted Lady Lopez's wife?" gaped Blaine. "She didn't kill you with her razor blades? Wait, is that how you received this scar?" Blaine reached between them to once again brush the imperfect skin.

Laughing softly, Kurt captured Blaine's hand, holding it loosely. "I did court Brittany, before I realized that while I enjoy the company of women, I don't – enjoy – the company of women. Besides, Lady Lopez was being courted by Finn, so there was no justification for the use of razor blades or her sharp tongue. We tried, Brittany and I, to find pleasure in our actions – but it wasn't to be. And then a new blacksmith came to court, along with his apprentice. Just looking at him made my stomach tighten in entirely new and pleasant ways."

Breaking off a piece of grass, Kurt began to trace nonsensical patterns across Blaine's chest and belly. "He was charged with shoeing several of the king's horses, including my favorite mare. So of course I had to watch. After he had completed his task, we climbed into the hayloft and kissed. It was brilliant."

"That spring and summer, every free moment we could eek out, was spent with as little clothing as we dared, lips and hands exploring every inch of flesh we possessed. I can say with honesty, I knew his body as well as I knew my own."

Blaine could see the hint of sadness in Kurt as he told the tale. "What happened, then? Why are you no longer together?"

A wry grin spread across Kurt's face as he shook his head. "As I said, we were barely seventeen, if that. I'm not foolish enough to think that it would have lasted until today. We were lovers, yes. But not soul mates." Swallowing hard, Kurt added the hardest part. "That fall, he was shoeing a horse, when it startled, kicking him solidly in the head."

"No!" gasped Blaine.

"It was instant. I'm grateful for that and for the time he spent with me," murmured Kurt.

Blaine leaned in enough to place a soft kiss on Kurt's lips, then sliding them up to his cheek. "Thank you. By the time I realized that I was attracted to men, I was too frightened to approach one. I didn't want to be the fool who didn't know anything about the physical side of love. I think it's beautiful that you were able to learn together."

Kurt propped his head on his elbow, studying Blaine. "When I was eighteen, I went away to study languages and history. I met a professor there who filled in the gaps of my sexual awakening."

Eyes wide, Blaine flicked out his tongue to wet his lips. "He was older than you?"

Rolling his eyes, Kurt nodded. "My father's age. Quite scandalous. With a rather sizeable penchant for inviting me to his office where he'd make me bare my ass, lay across his knees whereupon he'd turn my ass the color of the sunset with the palm of his hand. After, if I'd pleased him by holding back my orgasm, he'd lay me face down on his desk and drive his engorged cock into my ass over and over again." Kurt lost himself to the memories.

"And that … arrangement pleased you?" Blaine asked timidly, pushing Kurt's bangs back on his forehead.

"Oh lord, yes," Kurt assured. "I wouldn't have kept going back if any part of that was distasteful. I loved every touch – every stroke. If I were to judge with my experiences today, I rather think he had an issue with my having a title and he being low-born. That he found tremendous pleasure at the idea of 'defiling' the young prince sent to him for an education by fucking him again and again. The lovers I have taken since – hold back."

Kurt flopped back on his back, finding it difficult to analyze himself while the distracting expanse of Blaine's skin lay inches from his fingers. "I don't need sex to be rough or hard all the time. I rather enjoy taking my time, enticing my lover to the precipice again and again before finally falling over together. But there are times when I'd like a good hard fuck. And dammit, Blaine, there seems to be a shortage of men willing to give this prince a good fuck. Too worried they'll hurt me, or find themselves in trouble if they give in to their more – animalistic sides.

"How unfortunate," Blaine conceded sympathetically.

"You have no idea," murmured Kurt, covering his eyes with an arm.

"You've found no one to pleasure you as you enjoyed with your professor?" Blaine traced the divots of Kurt's abdomen with a fingertip.

"Not exactly. I did find someone. It's just … he's married. Married to a man who I love and respect and who, thankfully, is willing to occasionally share. Or allow me to join in with the two of them. But it isn't the same as having a partner of my own. The itch gets scratched, but the underlying rash remains."

Kurt drew in a shaky breath as Blaine's tongue replaced his fingertip. "Blaine," he croaked.

"I wish … I wish I could help, Kurt. I wish I had some piece of advice," he replied against Kurt's warm skin.

"Would you consider ditching Lady Rachel and coming to live in the castle with me?" Kurt asked, only half teasing.

Blaine looked up, narrowing his eyes. "Don't make offers you have no intentions of seeing through."

"I could say the same thing to you," Kurt shot back with a pointed look at where Blaine's head was resting on his lower belly.

* * *

_End Note:_ Yup, I left you right there. I'll leave you with this thought - 1.5 days = Darren as Hedwig. See you Friday! Gotta get back to writing sexy times for these guys.


	7. Succumbing to Temptation

A/N: Busy weekend ahead, so I'm posting a tad early. See you Tuesday.

* * *

"Would you consider ditching Lady Rachel and coming to live in the castle with me?" Kurt asked, only half teasing.

Blaine looked up, narrowing his eyes. "Don't make offers you have no intentions of seeing through."

"I could say the same thing to you," Kurt shot back with a pointed look at where Blaine's head was resting on his lower belly.

Looking indignant, Blaine sputtered, "I. You. I never."

Grasping Blaine's arm, Kurt tugged gently until Blaine was cradled in his arms. "You're an enigma. Innocent one moment, forward the next. Brave enough to enter a marriage you don't want, but too shy to tell me you want to lick my cock. Fine," Kurt murmured, burying his face in the crook of Blaine's neck and nipping gently, "I can work with that."

Their legs intertwined, Kurt slid a hand between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around the hardening flesh rising to meet him. Capturing the loud moan from Blaine with his mouth, Kurt murmured, "Just feel," against his lips before plunging in for another taste.

Blaine became Kurt's very own instrument to play. Learning where to touch and kiss to bring out the various sounds Blaine couldn't keep inside. After a time, Kurt reached back to the knapsack and, by touch alone, found the small bottle of olive oil. Dribbling it over his hand, he absorbed the sigh of pleasure Blaine released.

"What do you think about when you touch yourself like this?" Kurt purred into Blaine's ear as he continued his slow, firm strokes up and down the heated cock in his hand.

Eyes shut and breathing hard, Blaine groaned. How could Kurt touch him like that and then expect him to form coherent thoughts? When Kurt's grip slackened, Blaine slapped his hand over Kurt's, forcing him to continue.

"A stranger, come to do business with my father, finds me in the garden late at night. Without a word, he sits on a chair and beckons me forwards – undoing the laces on by breeches, pulling my swelling member out. He takes me into his fiery mouth and all I can do is hold on to his shoulders as I gently thrust in and out."

"Mmm," Kurt growled, slipping his hand lower to fondle Blaine's balls and rub even lower. "Do you come in the heat of his mouth, Blaine?"

"Yes."

"Do you return the favor?" Kurt inquired as Blaine's whimpers became louder.

"No."

"Why not?"

Undulating under Kurt's touch, Blaine explained, "While he pleasures me with his mouth, his fingers … open me. After I come, he turns me around and breaches me with his fat cock, seating me on his lap. Sometimes I. I. I imagine another man joins us. The first stranger whispers that if I behave, if I'm good for them, they'll make sure the business deal with my father goes through. He'll be so pleased that I helped convince them. Then the second stranger tells me I should help convince him by putting my mouth to good use. So I do."

Their heavy breathing filled the air as Blaine's image worked to drive them both forward to completion. Stilling his hand for a moment, Kurt asked, "Will you trust me?"

"Always, Your Highness," Blaine replied automatically.

"Turn to your other side," Kurt murmured, reaching for the oil. "And don't think you're getting away with calling me 'Your Highness'. I'm tabling your consequence until later." Nudging Blaine to his stomach, Kurt dribbled the oil between Blaine's cheeks, then rolled him to his side, and pressed up behind him. Kurt's swollen cock slid easily between Blaine's ass cheeks.

"Oh, fuck," Blaine keened.

"Sshhh," soothed Kurt, wrapping his hand around Blaine's cock. "Now close your eyes and imagine. This is the best I can offer you right now, Blaine. Imagine you're being taken from behind by one stranger as another works over your cock."

The continuous stream of profane words surprised Kurt, only in that he wouldn't have thought Blaine knew so many. "They may tell you it's about a business deal, but it's your body that has called to them. They're attracted to you, Blaine. It's your ass he wants to be buried in, your cock he wants stretching his lips. You, Blaine."

"C. close. ," stammered Blaine in warning.

"Yes, Lord Anderson," growled Kurt, thrusting harder against Blaine's ass, "your father could walk in at any moment, finding us fucking on the leather couch of his office. We need to hurry. To finish. Before-"

As furiously as he had tried, Kurt couldn't hold back his orgasm any longer, sending hot spurts of cream across Blaine's ass and back. Seconds later, Blaine's keening wails joined his own as wetness spread over Kurt's hand.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck. That was … fucking fantasic. Kuuurt." Blaine desperately tried to pull air into his lungs, rolling to his back so he could look up at Kurt. Pulling Kurt down into a languid kiss, Blaine hadn't _ever_ felt this good, or this relaxed. "Is it always like that?"

Nibbling along Blaine's jaw line, Kurt glanced at Blaine. "Is what?"

"Sex. Between two people. Is it always so … explosive." Blaine's eyelids blinked slower and slower as fatigue seemed to rush in where pleasure had just stood.

Kurt chuckled softly. "I wish. No, Blaine. It's not always that amazing. It depends on the man you choose. I seem to have chosen very well."

"Indeed," sighed Blaine, giving in to sleep.

"You'll feel better if you wash now instead of waiting until after you nap," cautioned Kurt. When Blaine failed to reply, Kurt rose, snatched a napkin from the knapsack and went to the stream to wet it.

Standing back up, he looked out into the natural beauty, wondering what had overcome him. Never in the three years since his father's heart had forced him to give up the Consent duties, not once had Kurt taken an interviewee to his bed. Never had he been tempted to do so.

But here, a couple hours after meeting Lord Blaine Anderson, Kurt had all but fucked him under an oak tree. All because he didn't want the Lord to regret never having been with a man. Or maybe it was more than that.

Washing himself off with the cloth, Kurt dipped it back into the water so that he could clean Blaine up before taking a short nap himself. Stepping from the stream, Kurt found himself face to face with Spencer who was holding out his shirt and hose.

Trading items, Kurt shrugged his shirt over his head and then gratefully used Spencer's arm to balance while he slid the tight hose back over his legs.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked, his tone that of Kurt's friend, not his guard.

Pressing his lips together hard, Kurt looked around for an answer he couldn't find. "I don't know, Spence."

"That's reassuring," Spencer teased softly.

"I don't know," Kurt insisted. "I don't _do_ this."

Tilting his head to the side, Spencer studied his friend carefully. "I know you don't. But it's clear he's gotten under your skin. So, as your friend, it's only fair to ask, what will you do next?"

Kurt's shoulders slumped. "What can I do, Spence? Take him home. Sign off on the Writ. Sign a card wishing him and Lady Rachel well."

Crossing his arms, Spencer shook his head slowly. "You do that and you'll spend the rest of your life wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"You don't need me to answer that, Your Highness."

As Spencer walked away back towards the horses, Kurt cursed. It was the second time today Sir Spencer Porter had been right.


	8. One Night No Regrets Just Love

A/N: Went looking for pics of Hedwig. Jaw remains on ground. Sigh. Thank you for reading &amp; your kind words.

* * *

The sun sat low in the sky, its rays barely cutting through the tree tops as the small group returned to Anderson Manor. Even though it meant he wouldn't return to the castle until well after dark, Kurt set a slow pace, walking the horses on the path that would lead back to Blaine's home. Kurt insisted on sitting behind Blaine, explaining it would make conversation easier. It had the added benefit of allowing Kurt to keep his arms around Blaine that much longer. The closer they drew to the manor, the more Kurt's stomach tightened.

From up ahead, Spencer turned in his saddle, giving Kurt a pointed stare. '_Talk to him_,' he mouthed before clicking his tongue, encouraging his horse to hurry ahead to where Sir Noah was riding.

Clearing his throat softly, Kurt interrupted the quiet of their journey. "My mother used to write in a journal nearly every day. On the day Finn and I were appointed designees for the Consent of the King article, my father gave her collection of journals to me. I thought, since I'd come of age, it was just a gift in celebration of that moment. Until I read them."

Taking a deep breath, Kurt let it slowly leave his chest before continuing. "The man who ruled as King before my father viewed the world in very different terms than my father does. Than I do."

"The king was your grandfather, no?" Blaine asked quietly, placing his hand over Kurt's as a source of comfort.

"Technically," Kurt replied tightly, "I have no memories of the man – so what I know of him, about him, has come from stories told by my father or members of our staff or what is written in books. Or my mother's journals."

Kurt hesitated, working out how to tell Blaine his mother Elizabeth's story. "When my father was growing up, the King frequently invoked the Consent of the King article, commanding brides into his bed chamber before their Writ of Marriage was approved. My father says he disapproved his father's choice from the time he understood what was going on. Then, he met a beautiful young woman, Elizabeth. They fell in love."

Blaine felt a slow sense of foreboding building as Kurt told his story. "No!" he gasped. "Please tell me he didn't."

Kurt rubbed the excess moisture from his eyes on Blaine's shoulder, pulling the dark-haired man a tad closer. The tightness of his throat made his voice climb. "As King, he summoned his own son's bride to his bed. What my mother wrote about that interaction chills me to my very soul to this day."

"Why are you telling me about this? I know there's something you want me to understand. I'm just not sure what it is." Blaine whispered.

Kurt ran both hands through his hair before wrapping his arms around Blaine's chest and placing a soft kiss at his temple. Lips against Blaine's ear, Kurt murmured, "My father has never invoked the Consent of the King article in his twenty plus years of ruling. When his heart began acting up and the doctors forbade sexual activity, Finn and I stepped in as the King's designees. Except not really. Because neither Finn nor I have ever asked an impending bride or groom to attend us under the Consent article. We travel about, interviewing prospective brides and grooms to establish that the marriage is desired by both parties, that no one feels undue pressure. People assume what they will – that occasionally one of us is so overwhelmed with lust that we summon a subject to the bed chamber. It's not true. It's never been true."

Kurt swallowed hard as the Anderson Manor came into view. "Your impending marriage to Lady Berry is a sham." Feeling Blaine tense under his arms, Kurt quickly continued. "I _heard_ you when you said you were choosing this marriage with open eyes. It doesn't make it right and I'm worried about what you will regret – both the things you have done and those you've left undone. But I needed you to understand - that the offer I'm about to make is just that – an offer. An offer I've never thought about making to anyone else."

As the horses halted at the stairs leading to the front door, Kurt knew Duke Anderson would appear momentarily to rip Lord Blaine from his arms. Pushing past his qualms, Kurt whispered, "I could invoke the Consent of the King article. I would only do so if you were _100% sure_ it was what you wanted."

Blaine gasped. "Kurt?"

"It would grant you, _us_, 25 hours to spend together. In my bed chamber. So I have to ask: would you want that, Blaine? You would leave with the knowledge of what it feels like to be with a man. I cannot answer if that knowledge will be a relief or a burden. But of all the regrets you might face, it is within my power to remove that one. But I will only do so if it is what you want as well."

"My father – " protested Blaine.

Kurt interrupted before Blaine could argue further. "Even the Duke cannot undo a law that has stood for three hundred years. Nor can the Berrys rescind the Writ because you've been summoned by the King's designee. So the only question you need to ask yourself, Lord Anderson, is whether you feel you can willingly submit to the designee's ministrations. Are you willing to have my hands, my mouth, my cock granting you a night's pleasure." Eyes blazing with heat, Kurt traced Blaine's lips with the tip of his finger.

Nipping Kurt's finger, Blaine closed the distance between them, capturing Kurt's lips in a slick kiss. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes," Blaine repeated, his voice gaining strength. "Invoke the article. Summon me to your bed chamber, Your Highness. If I am only to be granted this one moment in my lifetime to share myself with another man, then I will willingly join you, as the King's designee. Share with me what you will."

Pressing their lips together one last time, Blaine dismounted and walked directly up the stairs of the Manor, blatantly ignoring the glare of his father.

Prince Kurt would call him to his bed chamber.

Until that moment arrived, Blaine knew he would think of little else.

* * *

End Note: Until Friday my lovelies!


	9. Tied Up in Knots

A/N: Heh, I rather like this chapter. A little drama. A little humor. After rewatching season six two weekends ago, I've decided I really enjoyed the character of Spencer (could ya tell?). I think that's why he keeps popping up as the voice of reason in this story.

* * *

"I will not allow it!" shrieked Duke Anderson, shoving a pile of papers off of his desk in his fit of rage.

Jaw clenched tightly, Sir Spencer Porter shifted on his feet, dropping his hand onto the handle of his sword, preparing for this conversation to go south rather quickly. "You don't have a choice, Your Grace," he pushed out between gritted teeth. "Not only did Lord Anderson agree to submit to the Consent of the King article when he signed the Writ of Marriage, but when you accepted the title of Duke, you swore fealty to King Hummel. That requires obedience. We aren't one of those countries where every man gets a say in the governance of the land," Spencer added with a shudder. He often wondered how anything was ever accomplished in those lands – what with so many voices wanting their say.

Duke Anderson snatched the iron fireplace poker from its stand and swung – first at the fruit bowl on a side table, then at the wooden book case and then, before either Sir Spencer or Sir Noah Puckerman could intervene, the fireplace. Splinters of stone flew out, striking the Duke in the arm and face where trickles of blood sprung from his olive skin. Bellowing in rage, he spun and took two steps towards Sir Spencer before Sir Noah smacked the iron poker from the hand of the duke with the broadside of his sword and promptly headbutted the duke who fell to the ground unconscious.

"What?" said Sir Noah with a raised eyebrow.

Sighing, Sir Spencer shook his head at his friend and fellow knight. "Nothing. It's just too bad Duke Anderson ran into the door during his tantrum. We'll have to remember to let his staff know he's in here. Unconscious. From that blow to the head he took."

"Yeah," Noah replied acerbically, stepping over the body of Duke Anderson. "I'll have to remember to do that. Wait, what was I supposed to remember to do, again?"

Sir Spencer scratched his short blonde hair and mimed being deep in thought. "I can't seem to remember myself, Puck." Closing the door to the office behind him, Sir Spencer led the way back to the entrance of the Manor. "I'm sure if it was terribly important one of the two of us will remember eventually."

"Remind me again why Porcelain didn't come to claim his prize himself?" Noah asked softly. Rare was the occasion that either one of the knights would speak so freely about the prince.

"He felt it would provoke Duke Anderson," answered Spencer, amusement in his voice.

"Astute observation," came Noah's dry response.

"Right?" Sir Spencer schooled his face as they came upon the Duchess and several servants standing in front of the wide staircase that led to the upstairs floors. "Where is Lord Anderson, Duchess?"

She raised a shaking hand to her throat, as she tried for a commanding tone, "My husband was quite firm. He does not want you taking our son from the Manor."

Exchanging a look, Sir Noah took the duchess's arm, steering her out of the way as Sir Spencer climbed the stairs, ignoring the protests of the downstairs servants. If he had to search each room of the Manor he would.

* * *

Blaine didn't know what to expect when the door to his bedroom opened slowly. But it was a solid sense of relief that overtook him when he saw the familiar blonde hair and wide shoulders of Sir Spencer cross into the room.

"What. The. Fuck."

Taking a shaky breath through his nose, Blaine couldn't hold Spencer's gaze as the knight pulled a dirk out of his boot and strode over to the bed where Blaine had been bound and gagged.

Spencer exercised extreme caution as he slipped the sharp knife between the fabric gagging Blaine and his jaw, and then again as he sawed through the rope binding Blaine's wrists together. Finally he used his sword to hack away at the thicker coils of rope around Blaine's waist that had held him to the headboard.

Cupping Blaine's chin, Spencer guided Blaine to look at him. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Rubbing at his wrists, Blaine gave a curt nod. "I am now. Or I will be. Again, it seems, I'm in your debt, Sir Porter."

Spencer sat down on the edge of the bed, stilling Blaine's hands. "I've some salve in my pack outside that will help those abrasions. Your rubbing will only make it worse, Lord Blaine. And there is no debt." Reaching over to the bedside table, Spencer was able to pour a cool glass of water, holding it to Blaine's lips himself as he drank his fill.

Setting the glass down, Spencer wiped his palms on the coverlet. "When I took my oath, I promised to serve my king by protecting the people of this land. That includes you, Lord Blaine, no matter how many times you might need that help. Besides, I'm sure if the situations were reversed, you would do the same for me."

Blaine swung his legs over the side of the bed, cautiously standing on shaky legs. "I don't think I have what it takes to be a knight," he commented before taking a few tentative steps.

"Why's that?" Spencer asked, following Blaine towards the door.

In answer, Blaine took Sir Spencer's hand and placed it on his bicep. "I don't have the requisite athletic form."

Spencer scoffed. "First, I've been training for knighthood since I was fifteen. My 'athletic form' as you put it, is the natural result of having my ass handed to me ten hours a day, six days a week, for years. Second, I've seen your form. There's absolutely nothing lacking. Lord Blaine." Seeing Blaine's look of incredulity, Spencer laughed.

"You're, you're married," Blaine sputtered.

"Yes," Spencer replied, still laughing. "Doesn't mean I'm dead, Lord Blaine. I still look. And, on occasion, with permission, I get to touch as well."

Blaine had no idea what to say to that.

Reaching out, Spencer ruffled Blaine's curls with affection before turning serious. "How do you feel … about coming with us? Kurt asked me to sound you out. To see if you had any qualms. If you do … just tell me. I'll let the prince know."

"No," Blaine murmured, knowing his father's staff were probably listening behind the closed doors, waiting for a piece of information they could share with the Duke in the hopes of being given a small reward. "I'm ready. I'm sure."

Sir Spencer led the way down the stairs, stopping in front of the duchess to glare at her. "If you knew, I should have you flogged. Or better yet, thrown into the dungeon."

"I had nothing to do with that," Duchess Anderson insisted with false bravado.

"I'm sure," Sir Spencer sneered.

"Blaine, your father doesn't want you to leave."

Blaine looked at his mother blankly. "I'm attracted to men, mother. If Prince Kurt is willing to share himself with me, even if it's just for one night, then I'm willing to accept his offer. Father's asking me to give up part of myself for the rest of my life – all so our family honor can 'remain untarnished'. If I can marry Lady Berry to please him, he can give me this one night, to please myself. I'll be home sometime tomorrow."

Without a backward glance, Blaine Anderson walked out of his parent's home.

* * *

End Note: and thus created another cliffhanger of sorts that will last until Tuesday. We're getting closer to some sexy times. And then more drama. And then some sexy times. And then...hmmm. It's a pattern? I'm wishing each of you a pleasant weekend, and a Happy Mother's Day for those of you to whom this applies. -k8


	10. Fringe Benefits of Being a Prince

_A/N: Happy Tuesday. Um...all I'll say about this is the story is going to zig, but do not panic. I repeat - do not panic. If there were a reason to panic, I'd pass out oxygen masks and have first responders standing by. Calm, cleansing breaths. _

* * *

"You're here!"

"You're shirtless!"

Both men chuckled nervously as they spoke over one another. Kurt cupped Blaine's face with the palm of his hand, stroking his thumb over Blaine's cheekbone. "I'm sorry, Blaine. There's a last minute matter of State that I'm to attend to. That's why I asked Spencer to bring you up to my rooms. I don't anticipate it taking long, but regardless, my room is fairly comfortable. And I thought you might like to clean up. Spencer can show you to my bathing chamber."

"Um. Well. I … I did bathe this morning. In preparation for …" stammered Blaine.

A smile formed on Kurt's lips as he looked at Blaine. "You're even more striking when you're nervous," he offered softly. "The water is very warm. It might help you relax. It's up to you."

The tip of Blaine's tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip, before his teeth raked over the plump, rosiness. Feeling daring, he dipped his fingers into the waistband of Kurt's hose, tugging the taller man closer. "I demand a kiss," he whispered.

"Demand?" Kurt questioned pointedly.

"Demand," Blaine insisted. "You're keeping me waiting, Your Highness. I think it only fair that I be compensated for your ill-mannered behavior. We only have 25 hours together. I've already lost one and a half just getting to this point."

Kurt tipped his head so he could drop kisses from Blaine's ear to his chin before connecting their lips for a slow, heated kiss. "The twenty five hours start when I say they start, Lord Anderson," Kurt purred. "One more benefit to having been born a prince."

"Mmm," Blaine groaned, reaching one hand up to cup Kurt's face as they continued to share kisses. "Is there a written copy of these princely benefits?"

A loud clearing of a throat drew their attention.

Lady Lopez stood, arms crossed, with an extreme look of amusement on her face. "As much as I hate to interrupt the show – your presence is required elsewhere for a time, Your Highness. I'm sure Sir Spencer can make sure Lord Anderson stays fed and watered during your absence." She shot the knight, standing forgotten in the corner, a pointed look.

Kurt looked up at the ceiling, counting the leaves carved into the crown molding before giving his friend a glare. "He's not a dog, Santana," he bit out slowly.

"Well, from the way he's humping your leg right now, it was difficult to be sure," she shot back. Striding to the door, she gave Kurt one backwards glance. "Put on a shirt and come downstairs. Otherwise it will be your father or the Queen-Consort who interrupt you next."

When the door shut behind her, Kurt focused back on Blaine, squeezing his shoulders gently. "Ignore her. I mean it. I'll make it an official royal command if I need to." Seeing Blaine's wan smile, Kurt hugged the man close. "The sooner I go, the sooner I come back," he murmured into Blaine's ear, nipping at the lobe.

Stepping back from Blaine was one of the hardest things he'd done in recent memory. Kurt called out to Spencer, "Have Marley bring up some food and drink for Lord Anderson – and take him by the bathing chamber. See to his needs, Spence." Snatching one last lingering kiss, Kurt left the sitting room.

Despite knowing Sir Spencer was in the room with him, Blaine still startled when the knight placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come with me," Spencer encouraged quietly. "It's impossible not to love his bathing room."

* * *

Blaine's eyes grew wide as he and Spencer entered the small bathing chamber. Two long wooden benches, made with slats which would allow water to drip through to the floor, stretched across the near wall while an arched doorway led to another room. The rest of the chamber was taken up with an oversized bathing pool sunk into the floor.

High windows holding no glass, made the room quite brisk – given how close the autumn equinox was. Blaine could see puffs of steam rising from the pristine water.

"Go soak," encouraged Spencer. "It will help with the nerves."

Once Sir Spencer left, Blaine removed his clothing, taking the time to fold it and place the items on the bench before slipping into the heated water. Sighing as the warmth soaked into his body, he walked across the length of the pool, noting the water never rose above the level of his bottom rib. Holding his arms out, Blaine floated on his back, letting the water cradle his body.

Closing his eyes, Blaine let his thoughts wander. He was anxiously anticipating what the evening's activities might hold. At the same time, when he considered his impending marriage to Lady Rachel, he found it more difficult to tamp down the frustration of having to marry someone he had no feelings for and anger at his father's inability to accept Blaine for who he was. Underneath those layers lived his unacknowledged fear that he was about to make a mistake he'd regret for the rest of his lifetime.

Blaine had no idea how much time had passed when his random thoughts were interrupted by water droplets splashing across his face and a voice echoing through the chamber. Startled, and concerned that some stranger was staring at his naked form, Blaine struggled to right himself, instead, ending up with his head under the water just as he was taking a breath to ask who was present. Next thing he knew, Blaine was being pulled up and against a very firm, very masculine chest.

"It's just me, little water nymph." Sir Spencer teased, keeping his hold around Blaine's waist while he continued to cough up the water he'd inadvertently swallowed. "Did we forget how to swim in the last twenty minutes?"

"No," coughed Blaine. "You just surprised me is all."

"Ah. Pity then. I won't be needing to use my mouth to mouth skills to breathe the life back into you." Spencer mostly carried Blaine over to the side of the pool, lifting him easily from the water to sit on the edge, next to a platter of food and a skein of something to drink.

Blinking at the nearly naked man in front of him, Blaine responded with a fair amount of shock. "Sir Spencer, you ARE married, yes? I mean, I remember you telling me earlier that you still look at other men and that you … you, sometimes touch-"

"With permission," added Spencer with a grin, picking up some dried fruit from the platter and popping it in his mouth.

"What does that mean, anyway?" Blaine burst. "You took vows. You promised fidelity," argued Blaine.

Spencer's demeanor shifted to one of seriousness, as he coaxed Blaine's legs further apart so he could stand between them, looking up at the young lord. "I promised to love Alistair. To honor him. To cherish him. I do all those things, Lord Blaine. Every day. And we – together – decided that, on occasion, and with the other's permission, we might seek bodily pleasure with another. It might not have been a vow we stated in front of an audience in a church, but it is no less of a promise than the others. He will always own my heart, and I, his."

"Have you … been with the prince?" whispered Blaine, dropping his gaze to the spot where the water met Spencer's torso.

"Yes." Spencer answered softly, reaching a hand up to grip Blaine's knee.

Blaine deflated at the admission. "Oh."

"Blaine-"

Waving away any objections Spencer might have been about to lay out, Blaine murmured, "I have no claim on the prince. No reason that information should bother me in the least."

Spencer's hand slid several inches up Blaine's thigh. "Except you like him. You like him, and part of you wishes _you_ were learning all of this together for the first time." Using a finger to lift Blaine's chin so he could look into the beautiful hazel eyes, Spencer added softly, "That ship has sailed, Lord Blaine, and it's can't come back. But that doesn't mean you can't climb aboard another ship."

Blaine snorted. Loudly. "Climb aboard? That's your best inspirational speech?"

Smirking, Spencer grunted, "Alistair didn't marry me for my gift of speech, my Lord. Although my talented tongue certainly may have persuaded him to keep me around. I have other pleasing attributes as well. I could enumerate them, if you desire."

"You're incorrigible," Blaine replied, shoving at Spencer's shoulder playfully.

Spencer placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder, slowly sliding it up Blaine's neck until his fingers were tangled in the nest of wet, brown curls at the back of his head. "I was commanded to serve your needs, Lord Blaine. By my prince. I have his permission and that of my husband. I stand before you asking, in all seriousness, what do you need, my Lord?"

When Spencer's voice dropped an octave, Blaine felt the blood rush from his head to pool in his lap. Whimpering, Blaine allowed Spencer to pull him closer, until Spencer's lips were sliding against his, and Spencer's long fingers were wrapping around his suddenly fully erect cock.

"I need you to teach me how … how to pleasure a man … with my mouth."


	11. A Water Nymph's Instruction

As Lord Blaine's words sank in, Spencer broke their kiss. "You've never-"

Flushing deeply, Blaine shook his head. "I'd never even kissed a man until I kissed Prince Kurt. Dammit, Spencer. I feel like a fool. He offered me one night – one night to indulge in the pleasures a man might share with another – and I have no experience to draw from. No idea what to do."

Spencer brought his forehead against Blaine's. "He'll not judge you, Lord Blaine. He's not a judgmental person to begin with, but the prince certainly wouldn't think poorly of you because you've chosen to be selective," Spencer assured, skimming the palms of his hands up and down the length of Blaine's thighs.

"Not sure it was a choice," Blaine muttered, shivering under Spencer's touch.

Wrapping his arms around Lord Blaine's waist, Spencer pulled him back into the heated waters and against his hard body. "Well, you've chosen to be here now. And you did share your desire to learn how to give a man pleasure. Are you still interested in that lesson, little water nymph?" he asked against Blaine's ear.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Blaine nodded, closing his eyes as Spencer's lips claimed his. Unsure of what to do with his hands, Blaine slid them slowly over the hardened planes of Spencer's chest before gripping the knight's shoulders firmly as their kiss became more passionate.

Kneading the muscles of Blaine's ass, Spencer used Blaine's gasp of surprise as the opportunity to sweep his tongue into heat of Blaine's mouth. "So delicious," he murmured, walking them deliberately towards the steps that sat under the water in the corner of the pool. Sitting, Spencer was able to guide Blaine to straddle his lap without breaking their kiss.

"Listen to him," Spencer growled, nipping along Blaine's smooth jawline. "He'll tell you exactly how much he's enjoying what you're doing to his body with the sounds he makes. I've already found three places on your body, nymph, that make you quiver."

"And watch him. Watch him while you attend his body," Spencer continued. Finding Blaine's erection with his hand, Spencer began to stroke – his touch enough to bring Blaine pleasure, but not enough to bring him over the edge. "He'll see in your eyes how much you're enjoying giving him pleasure as your lips stretch around the weight of his cock. As your tongue dances along his length."

Without warning, Spencer shifted their positions, lifting Blaine to sit higher up on the steps above the water line. Nudging Blaine's knees apart, Spencer settled between his legs, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on the swollen tip of Blaine's cock. "His whole body can bring him pleasure, nymph, when you apply your mouth to it. Don't think you start and end here," he explained, swiping his tongue over the mushroom head.

"Oh, God! Spencer!" Blaine's keen of pleasure echoed in the small room as he rocked forward, arms wrapping around Spencer's head and shoulders.

Using his arms to lever himself out of the water, Spencer slowly forced Blaine to lie back on his elbows. "May I show you this pleasure, little nymph? Or would you prefer to wait for his Highness?" Dipping his head, Spencer curled his tongue around Blaine's peaked nipple, suckling lightly.

Blaine clutched Spencer's head to his chest, thrusting up into his athletic frame. "S'okay, Spence. Spencer. Plea … please. Show me," he begged breathlessly

Grinning up at Blaine, Spencer made his way down Blaine's body with deliberate leisureness, tracing every dip and divot with the tip of his tongue. A warm chuckle escaped him as Blaine wriggled underneath his touch, apparently much more sensitive, and ticklish, than either Alistair or Prince Kurt.

Torn between watching Spencer's ministrations or shutting his eyes to better experience the sensations, Blaine felt he was in a perfect combination of heaven and hell. After what seemed like hours, Spencer hovered over his swollen erection, eyes blazing with desire.

"There's no need to silence yourself," Spencer offered, flicking the tip of his tongue along the underside of Blaine's cock. "I want to hear how my touch affects you. How much you want it to continue." Taking Blaine deeper into his mouth, Spencer smiled at Blaine's desperate moan.

Blaine tried to concentrate on his breathing, tried to hold back, wanting the tingling awareness to endure. He would have had an easier time holding back a storm swollen river, raging against its banks. Struggling against Spencer's hold on his hips, Blaine felt a familiar tightening in his abdomen moments before exploding down Spencer's throat with another hoarse cry.

* * *

Sitting next to the tray of food, legs dangling in the water, Spencer took another long sip of the wine before passing the bag back to Blaine. He selected a handful of nuts and tossed them into his mouth, munching on them noisily. "Alistair's been gone for … three weeks now," he said without preamble.

Still standing in the water, Blaine made a small sandwich with the bread and cheese that had been laid out. "Traveling?" he asked without looking up from the tray of food.

"State business. As High Clerk, Lady Lopez oversees the governing of all things within the country. Alistair, as Special Emissary, oversees those things involving other nations." Spencer continued crunching on the nuts as his thoughts drifted to his husband.

"When's he due back," Blaine asked around a mouthful of his sandwich.

"I don't know," he answered with a shrug. "This time he couldn't even tell me where he was going."

Reaching over, Blaine gave Sir Spencer's knee a gentle squeeze. "That must be exceptionally difficult for you. Especially given your profession."

Noticing the furrowing of Spencer's forehead, Blaine tried to explain his thoughts further. "He's your husband. It's clear how much you care for him. And you're a knight. You spend your life protecting others. So to not be able to protect that which you hold most dear … you are a brave man for many reasons, Sir Spencer Porter."

Spencer's cheeks flushed at the compliment and he attempted to deflect Blaine's kind words by tapping his nose softly. "That's very kind of you to say, Lord Blaine. The prince is quite lucky to have caught your interest."

"I. I. That's not. I don't know what you're implying," sputtered Blaine, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm here because the prince was kind enough to offer to share a night with me – before my marriage to Lady Berry. That's all," he insisted.

"Really?" Spencer pushed, sliding down into the warm waters. "So you're only here because of an offer made to you? Because if that's the case, I can make my own offer to you, Lord Blaine."

"You're married, Spencer," Blaine pointed out nervously, taking a step backwards.

"What does _that_ have to do with anything, Blaine? I've explained my agreement with Alistair. You want to know what erotic pleasure feels like before you exchange vows. So let me dry you off, take you to my room, and show you what's it like to be stretched by fingers not your own – to be placed on your hands and knees before a man slides his cock inside of you, stretching you further than you ever felt possible. To sob as he takes you over and over again, begging for release, only to be disappointed when it finally comes."

Spencer had backed Blaine into a corner moving ever closer until their chests pressed together. "Be honest, Lord Blaine. If all you wanted was one night's worth of fucking, it wouldn't matter who gave it to you."

Blaine pressed his palms into Spencer's chest, keeping the taller man from leaning in to steal a kiss. "I. I."

"Who do you want to teach you the rest of what you seek to learn, Blaine?" Murmuring, Spencer tucked curls behind Blaine's ears as he waited for Blaine to admit to himself what Spencer already knew.

Head falling to his chest, Blaine was quiet for several long moments. "The prince," he whispered.

"Because …" prompted Spencer, embracing Blaine.

"I'm very much interested," he admitted even more quietly.

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, Blaine fought desperately to contain the emotions that that admission had brought out. Running his fingers through his curls, Blaine stared hard at Spencer. "But it doesn't matter – because in a month I'll be married to Lady Berry. It doesn't matter because he doesn't feel the same. It doesn't matter because this one night is all we'll have. It doesn't matter because only in children's stories do princes fall in love with commoners and live happily ever after."

"Sshh," soothed Spencer. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just want you to be honest with yourself. Honest with yourself and honest with the prince. Because the truth is, you're the first-"

"SPENCER!"

Kurt stood near the wooden bench, holding a boot in his hands that he'd clearly just removed. He glared at his friend until Spencer removed his hands from Blaine and stepped back. "The evening's Watch Commander would like to speak with you."

Giving Kurt a look that showed his annoyance and suspicion at the prince's motives, Spencer turned to give Blaine one last grin. The nerves and tension had returned to Blaine's eyes, so Spencer ran his fingers through Blaine's curls one more time before sliding his hand down to squeeze Blaine's ass. "Enjoy yourself, Lord Blaine," he said softly.

Grasping his arm, Blaine desperately tried to keep Spencer in place. "Don't go. I don't know what I'm doing."

Chuckling, Spencer slowly pried Blaine's fingers up, raising his hand to his lips, kissing the fingertips. "Trust me, my lord, I'd much prefer staying here with you and the prince. Unfortunately, duty calls."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Blaine leaned back against the tiled wall of the bathing pool, and watched as Spencer climbed out and took the towel he was offered. He engaged in a short conversation with the prince and then left.

Leaving Blaine alone.

Alone with the prince.

* * *

End Note: Now that the zigging is complete, we'll go back to our regularly scheduled zagging. Or vice versa. Hope you have a wonderful weekend. I'll catch you on Tuesday. -k8

Note #2: Since the reviewer who posted the following posted as a guest, I thought I'd respond here - which is weird, because I'm sure they'll never actually see this. But I've learned that if one person is brave enough to voice something, then five more are thinking it ... _Are you serious now? GROSS. Why is it so freaking hard to warn about Blaine/OC or Kurt/OC before readers get attached to a story. Why did you make me waste my time on this? if I wanted Kurt and Blaine with other people I'd rewatch canon Glee since we had plenty of that already with Rachel/Eli c/Chandler/Karofsky/Walter etc_

Dear Guest,

I can only speak for myself as a writer - but unless something might serve as an actual trigger for PTSD, or depression or the like, I don't feel obligated to warn for something just because a reader might not 'like' it. Personally, I enjoy the element of surprise - and there was enough foreshadowing in this story for you to figure out what was going to develop here, however briefly. If Blaine or Kurt were going to develop a relationship with another character, I would have marked that in the summary. That isn't the case.

It pleases me to hear that you were 'attached' to the story. That is a high compliment, and means I have done my job as a writer. That being said, I didn't "make you" do anything. With respect, you need to understand the power dynamic in the reader-writer relationship. I posted my story. You CHOSE to read, apparently, eleven chapters worth of it. If you choose not to continue, I'd support that as well - there have been times when I have made the same choice.

Moving forward, for those of you who may be reading this with similar misgivings, what I will say is this: Spencer and Alistair and Burt and Santana and Kurt and Blaine will all continue to be characters in this story. If you cannot move past Blaine and Spencer having their intimate moment (when, I might point out, Kurt and Blaine aren't even officially together yet) then I would totally understand if you chose not to continue further.

Finally, Guest, I truly do mean it when I say that I find it brave that you posted what you did. To be moved to writing a person you don't know to tell them what you disliked about their story means, again, that I did my job as a writer. Perhaps not to your liking, but the writer in me is satisfied.

Thank you,

K8


	12. A Night's Adventure

"I swear to all that his holy, Kurt, if you screw this up, I'll beat the shit out of you in the training yard," Spencer whispered hotly, yanking the towel Kurt offered him out of the prince's hands.

"The only thing I intend on screwing-" Kurt began.

Spencer cut him off before he could get further, "Save it. He's not some wild stallion needing to be broken. He's unsure and skittish and eager all at the same time. And he doesn't just want this night – he fucking wants this night with _you_. **You**. So again, don't fucking screw this up, Kurt," he hissed.

Kurt followed Spencer's retreat with his eyes while shedding his remaining clothing which he allowed to drop haphazardly on the floor. Turning, he found Blaine hadn't moved from the corner Spencer had backed him into, his arms loosely held around his torso. Walking with more confidence than he actually possessed, Kurt stepped into the warm waters and crossed to stand in front of Blaine.

"This night's adventure is about you," Kurt said, sliding his hands up Blaine's arms. "Whatever you desire, you only need to name it. If there's something I do that makes you uncomfortable or that you don't wish to continue, you only need to tell me and I will stop immediately. I don't want you keeping silent because you have it in your head that you'll disappoint me – my pleasure this evening comes from giving pleasure to you. Will you promise to do this?"

Shivering despite the heat of the water, Blaine felt the hairs on his arms and chest stand on end as Kurt's words washed over him. "Yes."

Stepping closer so their bodies brushed against each other, Kurt nipped Blaine's earlobe. "Promise me," he purred, reaching around to cup Blaine's ass.

"I promise," Blaine replied with a tiny whimper. Trembling in anticipation, Blaine clutched Kurt's hips.

"Turn around." Once Blaine had complied, Kurt lifted his hands to Blaine's neck and shoulders, digging into the muscles, massaging away the tension. "How was your time with Spencer?"

A deep groan escaped Blaine as Kurt found a particularly tight knot. "Enlightening," he offered.

"Well, you are welcome to show me anything you learned," Kurt said. Sliding his hands along Blaine's arms, Kurt hesitated when he reached Blaine's wrists. Gently he pulled Blaine's arm back, studying the bruising and abrasions. "When did this happen?"

Hearing the change in Kurt's tone, Blaine struggled to turn around. "It wasn't Spencer," he blurted.

Kurt looked from the purpling skin to Blaine's honey golden eyes. "Clearly. For the bruises to be this colorful, this happened some time ago. And Spencer's not one to restrain his partners. So again, when did this happen, Blaine?" To diminish some of the hardness in his voice, Kurt brushed a gentle kiss against Blaine's wrist.

Swallowing hard, Blaine gave a half shrug. "The Duke was opposed to my leaving this evening. When the staff refused to bind me to my bed, he did it himself. And once again, Spencer came to rescue me."

His protective nature rose up at the thought of Blaine's father abusing him in such a manner. "It pains me that I wasn't the one to assist you."

Blaine pursed his lips. "I wouldn't have wanted you to see me like that. It's embarrassing."

Kurt shook his head. "The only embarrassment is that through all of this, your father still retains his title. You have nothing to be embarrassed about Blaine. Not what he did to you. Not your desire for men. Not being here with me."

Interlocking their fingers, Kurt led Blaine from the pool, taking his time drying the other man off with a warm towel. "I have something to share with you in my room. Go lay on the bed, on your stomach," Kurt asked, running his hand across Blaine's belly.

Rocking forward, Blaine kissed Kurt, sucking lightly on his plump lower lip. "I rather enjoy kissing you, Your Highness," he sighed.

"You're rather good at it," Kurt encouraged. As Blaine turned to go, Kurt smacked his naked ass hard causing him to jump. "But not so much at remembering how to address your prince."

Narrowing his eyes, Blaine stepped forward until his nose brushed Kurt's. "Was that supposed to be punishment, Your Highness?" With a laugh, he darted away running for the bedroom.

"You little minx," Kurt called, giving chase. He caught up with Blaine just as the curly haired man reached his bed. Grasping him around the waist, Kurt spun them both in a circle, Blaine's laughter filling a part of his soul he never knew was empty.

"Kuuurt!"

The prince's laughter rang out as well. "Shouting my name already?"

"Stop it!" Blaine giggled, struggling to get Kurt to put him down. Without warning, he found himself flying through the air before landing face down on the softest bedding he'd every lain in. "Ooof!"

Kurt leaped on the bed, straddling Blaine's legs and caressing his ass with the palms of his hands. "You have an absolutely beautiful ass, Blaine. Nicely rounded. Giving a man something to hold on to as he fucks you." Spreading Blaine's cheeks apart, Kurt leaned down, placing a kiss at the base of his spine and then one lower, right on Blaine's rosy pucker.

Shuddering under Kurt's intimate touch, Blaine stopped breathing for a long moment. "Ohmygodohmygodfuckohmygod," he found himself babbling when Kurt's tongue flicked over the sensitive skin.

"Have you ever played with yourself?" Kurt inquired softly, running his tongue along the crease where Blaine's thigh met his ass. "Used your fingers to simulate what it would be like to be fucked by a man? Used something else?"

His breaths coming in pants, Blaine wriggled under Kurt's ministrations. "No. Not really," he admitted.

"Not really? That sort of question is rather a 'yes, I have,' or a 'no, not ever,' not a 'not really'," he observed, amusement flooding his voice. "How about you share with me what exactly 'not really' means." Kurt backed away, sliding off the end of the bed and hurrying over to the bedside table. From the top drawer he removed a cloth bundle and a small wooden box.

Blaine followed Kurt's movements with his eyes, placing his head on his folded arms. "When I realized … things … I went shopping for objects one might use for diversions. But I was petrified that someone on the household staff would find them and report my – habits to my parents. I've always found it awkward to use my fingers."

"Hmmm. I'm pleased I get to share this with you then," Kurt said. Untying a hunter green ribbon from the cloth bundle, Kurt opened it, revealing a set of five polished wooden shafts, each carved with a different texture or shape, each growing in length and girth.

Eyes wide, Blaine stuttered, "Are. Are those what I think they are?"

"Yes," Kurt answered with a smirk. "And while they'll give you their own pleasure – they will also help stretch you so you'll have an easier time accommodating my cock – when we get to that part of the evening." Picking up the most slender, Kurt opened the wooden box to reveal a creamy substance which he smoothed liberally on the shaft.

Dipping his finger into the cream, Kurt gently rubbed it around Blaine's pucker before dipping his head down to kiss Blaine passionately. "It won't hurt," he assured. "It may, however, feel a bit awkward. Full. Mostly, I want you to try not to tense up too much. Close your eyes and concentrate on the feelings of pleasure."

"Okay," Blaine answered timidly.

Kurt slid Blaine's right knee up, opening him up a bit. "Kiss me," he demanded. Once he had Blaine moaning desperately, Kurt pressed the toy against Blaine's entrance with a firm touch and waited. On Blaine's next exhale, the wooden shaft shifted, gliding inside with ease.

Kurt caught Blaine's whimpers with his tongue.


	13. There's Always A Choice

For over an hour Kurt subjected Blaine to the most delicious torture. Again and again he brought Blaine to the edge of pleasure only to stop in order to begin something new. "God, you take this so well," Kurt gasped, watching as Blaine's body accepted the last bead on the wooden shaft, at least three fingers in width, without resistance.

"Fuck!" Blaine grunted, smiling up at Kurt from his position on his back. "Come here," he encouraged, opening his arms so Kurt could slide into his embrace. Once he held Kurt, Blaine skimmed his hands over the sweat slicked skin of the prince. "I'm ready. I want you inside of me. Please, Kurt."

Pressing his forehead against Blaine's, Kurt gazed into the golden eyes of his lover, seeing passion and trust there. "Okay," he breathed. Flicking the tip of his tongue over Blaine's lips, Kurt kissed him deeply as he carefully removed the toy from Blaine and rolled them both, so that Kurt was lying on his back with Blaine straddling his hips.

"You should be in control," Kurt murmured, hands drifting over Blaine's chest. Guiding Blaine into position, Kurt held his cock firmly as Blaine began his deliberate descent downwards. "Go as slow as you need, honey," Kurt said, his words turning into a throaty groan as the head of his cock slipped past the first ring of impossible tightness.

In response, Blaine let out a long grunt as he worked his hips over the seemingly impossible size of Kurt's cock. Like Kurt had said, there wasn't pain per se but a pleasant burning and stretching. "So big," he sighed.

Gently thrusting his hips upwards, Kurt chuckled. "Flattery will get you well fucked, Lord Blaine."

Eyes fluttering open, Blaine smirked, rising up as far as he could without Kurt slipping out and then dropping all the way down in one steady movement. "Then fuck me well, Your Highness."

Wrapping his arms around Blaine's shoulders, Kurt brought him down to his chest so he could kiss Blaine hard. "How does it feel to have a man's cock in your ass, Lord Blaine?" he said with a particularly hard thrust with his hips, causing Blaine to keen with pleasure.

"You've had your cock sucked, and sucked a cock. Now we've added being fucked by a man. Are your expectations being met?" purred Kurt.

A whimper escaped Blaine with each thrust of Kurt's hips. "Fuck, yes," he hissed, biting down on Kurt's shoulder. "Kuuurt. Fuck. I need. I need to. I'm so close."

"Let go." Kurt watched in fascination as Blaine closed his eyes tight and moved in a sinuous dance, the muscles of his stomach and abdomen contracting and releasing as he fucked himself on Kurt's cock. The angry purple tip of Blaine's cock leaked furiously, leaving streaks across Kurt's abdomen until Kurt could wait no more. Taking Blaine in his hand, Kurt stroked hard, watching as Blaine stuttered at the new sensation.

"Ohgodohgodoh, Kurt!

Blaine dug his fingers into his thighs as his orgasm slammed into him. He painted Kurt's chest with his release before Kurt gripped his hips hard, thrusting twice and then there was a heat filling him from the inside out.

Collapsing on Kurt's chest, Blaine focused on catching his breath as Kurt slowly softened and slipped out of him, leaving him feeling wanting. Kurt maneuvered the two of them onto their sides, holding Blaine close while he continued to drop kisses over his face and neck.

"Thank you," whispered Blaine, his eyes filling with tears.

Kurt caught Blaine's gaze, wiping away the moisture with his thumb. "Thank you, Blaine. For allowing me to share this with you."

"I can't believe I was going to get married without ever knowing … without ever experiencing what we just did." Blaine reached out and ran his fingers through Kurt's bangs before draping his arm over Kurt's waist.

Smiling, Kurt leaned forward to place a soft kiss on the tip of Blaine's nose. "We have the rest of the night and part of tomorrow morning as well. Care to share with me what else you might wish to experience?"

"I might," smirked Blaine, "after a nap."

Snorting, Kurt rolled out of bed and quickly returned with a damp towel which he used to clean Blaine and himself. Dropping it to the floor, he tossed the wooden shafts down as well before cuddling back up against Blaine. "Get some rest. I have big plans for you. Us."

Snuggling into Kurt's embrace, Blaine hummed in acknowledgment. "Can't wait."

* * *

Sitting on the window seat in Kurt's bed chamber, Blaine soaked in the morning sun while watching the Royal guard go through their drills. Blaine had woken and slipped out of bed to soak in the warm waters of the bathing pool.

By the time Blaine had dried himself and dressed, a large platter of food had been left by the sitting chairs and table. Stomach growling, Blaine had helped himself to the fruits, cheeses, and bread still warm from the oven. In all that time, Prince Kurt had slept like the dead – soft snores and the occasional whimper cutting through the morning's silence.

From his position in the window, Blaine could make out the closely cropped blond hair of Sir Spencer. At the moment, he was battling three other men with wooden swords.

"He's a sight to behold, isn't he," Kurt murmured, sliding his fingers through Blaine's curls. He'd managed to slip out of bed and pull on undergarments before wandering over to see what had captured Blaine's attention so thoroughly.

Startling, Blaine blurted, "Your Highness, you're up," while attempting to stand.

"Am I?" Kurt teased, pushing at Blaine's shoulder to force him back down. Swinging Blaine's legs up onto the window seat, Kurt sat down next to him, hips touching. "I thought, Lord Blaine, we had discussed my wish that you address me by my given name. Did you forget, or are you _trying_ to get me to punish you?"

Feeling himself flush at the thought of Kurt turning him over his knee, Blaine dropped his gaze to his hands. "I'm sorry, Kurt," he murmured shyly.

Leaning in, Kurt brushed his lips against Blaine's. "You're still beautiful when you flush," he whispered before flicking his tongue out to trace Blaine's lips. "Besides … given the punishment your ass took last night, I'm not sure I could, in good conscience, deal out any more."

One hand cupping Kurt's face, the other gripping his shoulder, Blaine pulled away just enough to stare deeply into the prince's piercing blue eyes. "That wasn't punishment, Kurt," he insisted.

"Then what was it?" baited Kurt.

"An awakening," Blaine smoldered, connecting their lips once again. Slipping the tip of his tongue along the seam of Kurt's lips, Blaine groaned as Kurt allowed him entrance into the moist heat. He slid his hands over the hills and valleys that made up Kurt's torso, encouraged by the whispered pleas and curses that slipped off of Kurt's swollen lips.

Kurt lifted a leg, moving to straddle Blaine's pliant form before tugging at the tunic covering Blaine. He skimmed his fingers across Blaine's nipples delighting when they pebbled beneath his ministrations. "You're so sensitive," he murmured, dropping his head down so he could use his tongue.

Fisting his hand in Kurt's hair, Blaine held him in position as his hips began to grind against the prince. "You're spoiling me for any other man who comes after you," Blaine shared.

At Blaine's admission, an unexpected knot formed in Kurt's stomach. The thought of Lord Anderson spending … _any_ … amount of time with another man, made Kurt feel angry. Jealous. Possessive. Sitting back on his knees, Kurt studied Blaine for a long moment, watching the flush of passion become one of embarrassment as Blaine struggled to understand why they'd stopped.

Without considering the ramifications of his words, Kurt shared his innermost thoughts. "Then perhaps you should consider not looking further."

A myriad of emotions crossed Blaine's face. Confusion. Hope. Fear. Resignation. "As delightful as that offer sounds, Your Highness, my father will disinherit me the moment he realizes I've chosen to follow my … _unnatural_ … inclinations. The court gossip of Duke Anderson's son becoming the bedroom plaything of Prince Kurt would be terrible enough. I cannot imagine the damage to your reputation if you took up with a disgraced commoner. A commoner with no way to make a living who would be beholden upon you for every scrap you were willing to dole out. '_Look at Prince Kurt's whore_' they'll whisper."

"STOP IT!" Kurt shouted, giving Blaine a firm shake before climbing off of his lap. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glowered at Blaine. "So what? You'll just go on with this farce of a marriage to Lady Berry?"

"I have no choice," Blaine insisted, slamming a fist into the pillow he was still sitting on.

"There's ALWAYS a choice, Blaine," Kurt argued.

The sound of a key in the outer door drew their attention. A royal guardsman stepped into the room, only to be waved off by Kurt. "We're fine. You may return to your post."

"Your Highness," he replied with a short bow.

Shoving up from the window seat, Blaine tried to brush past Kurt only to be stopped by a firm hold on his forearm. "I'm not a Prince," he hissed, yanking his arm from Kurt's grip. "I don't live in a castle where everyone caters to my whims. I don't visit the countryside selecting men to bring back to my bed. I'm the second son of a Duke who hates me because I find men attractive. I never, not once, acted on my desires – and I still ended up being forced into a marriage with a woman I don't love and never will. So tell me, Kurt, just where do my choices lie?

Lower lip trembling, Kurt met Blaine's honey-eyed gaze until he couldn't. Wordlessly he turned on his heel and strode towards the bathing room. When he reached the doorway, he gripped the frame tightly, causing it to creak. "You should consider your Duty to the King met, Lord Anderson. Consent will be granted for your marriage to Lady Berry." Throat impossibly tight, Kurt managed to croak out, "I wish you well in your wedded life."

Watching Kurt walk away, Blaine had never felt more alone in his life.

* * *

_End Note: I can hear your groans. Yup, I left it right there for the weekend. Thank you for reading and for your kind words. In honor of our Memorial Day holiday here in the US, I'd like to take a moment to say thank you to those men and women who have and continue to protect our freedoms. Thank you also to their families for sharing these brave men and women._


	14. Battling Dragons

_-three weeks later-_

Hands tucked under his head, Kurt stared up through the trees of the apple orchard at the deep blue of the sky. His duties for the day completed, he'd informed Spencer where he was going, and asked only to be disturbed if dragons attacked the castle.

When the snapping of twigs reached his ears, he sighed before calling forth, "How many dragons are we battling, Spence?"

The deep rumble of laughter that followed came not from Sir Spencer Porter, but from his father, King Burt. "I can report, as of ten minutes ago, there were no dragons attacking the castle. But I'm not so sure about how many may be attacking you."

Settling down his aged frame, Burt removed a straw sun hat he'd placed over his bald pate and leaned against the apple tree his son had chosen to lay beneath. "You've had a dark cloud of sorts hanging over your head for weeks now. The cooks report you're not eating. Sir Spencer and Sir Noah have voiced their concerns to me as well. What's bothering you, Kurt."

Turning on his side, Kurt looked at his father. "Are you asking as my king or my father?" he asked softly.

Burt's expression clouded for a moment. "Both love you unconditionally, Kurt. I hope you know that."

Pressing his lips together, Kurt nodded. "I do. I know you've worked tirelessly to rewrite and rework the laws that govern the kingdom to make things better for those like me. Granted the citizens rights they never dreamt of before your coronation. From the bottom of my heart, as your son and your subject, I appreciate that more than I could ever aptly place into words."

"It will give the historians much to write about," Burt remarked, not completely comfortable with his place as an agent of so much change within his lands. "Talk to me, Kurt."

Anxiety building, Kurt flopped back, throwing his arm over his eyes to hide them. "Duke Anderson's younger son applied for a Writ of Marriage to-"

"Lady Berry," Burt supplied. "Don't look so surprised. I do make it a point of knowing what is going on in my own kingdom. Besides," he paused, reaching out to ruffle Kurt's hair, "your brother has recently sought my advice on how best to rescind that same Writ.

"What?" exclaimed Kurt, sitting up to face his father.

"Well, I haven't spoken to Finn personally, but Carole informs me that Finn was quite taken with Lady Rachel during their mandated interview. Finn says she admitted to only allowing the engagement to Lord Anderson because her fathers promised to finance a theater company in her name."

"So marriage to Blaine is just a convenience?"

"Was. Was going to be. Lady Santana has cancelled the Writ at my direction."

"Father."

Burt held up a staying hand. "Lady Berry did not wish to marry Lord Anderson. Besides, according to Carole, she has been quite happy entertaining Finn at her fathers' estate. I would be shocked if Finn doesn't apply for his own Writ with Lady Berry before the Midwinter celebrations."

Picking aimlessly at some of the grass growing underneath the tree, Kurt asked softly, "And how did Duke Anderson react?"

"Blustered about like the arrogant, pompous ass he is, according to Lady Santana. I'm told he is actively seeking a young woman of standing for Lord Blaine." Watching carefully, Burt noticed how his son paled at his last comment. "What about Lord Blaine worries you so much, Kurt?"

Kurt continued picking at the grass as he gathered the courage to bare his soul to his father. Going into battle against neighboring kingdoms had seemed less difficult. "Lord Blaine is like me," Kurt answered softly. "Duke Anderson wants to force a marriage so that the rumors about Blaine will disappear. Blaine feels trapped, with no way out and it's eating at me. I don't know how to help him."

"Kurt?" Burt murmured. "What aren't you telling me?"

Mouth suddenly dry, Kurt dropped his eyes. "I invoked the Article."

"You what?!" Burt exclaimed.

Swiping at the moisture that had begun to gather at the corner of his eye, Kurt desperately tried to control the warble in his voice. "I went to interview Blaine. He told me about his father and how his biggest regret was having never been with another man. That he'd never be with another man because he wouldn't break his vows to Lady Rachel. So I asked him … I asked his permission to invoke the Consent of the King article. He came to my bed willingly. You have to believe that. I would never have forced myself on him."

Burt watched as his son dissolved into tears. Gently he pulled the man who would always be his little boy into his arms and rocked him until he'd regained control of his emotions. "Have you ever done that before?" he asked.

"No!" Kurt cried. "Never. It's a stupid law that shouldn't exist. A free ticket to having sex with a stranger for 25 hours. What the hell were our ancestors thinking? Finn and I haven't **ever** invoked the Article in the entire time we've served as your designees. And I wouldn't have – except Blaine said yes. He said he was willing to come to my bed. He wanted to."

Sniffling, Kurt was quiet for a long time, resting in Burt's arms. "I haven't stopped thinking about him."

Jostling Kurt's head, Burt suggested, "Then why not go tell him that? Or is Duke Anderson's son a mind reader too?"

Kurt snorted. "No. Not a mind reader. We … we had a spat. Right before he left. I … suggested … he call off the wedding to Lady Berry. He insisted he had no choice. I said there's always a choice. He became infuriated with me – said he isn't a prince who traipses around the countryside selecting men to fuck. That if he were to be with me, his father would cut him off, and with no income, the members of the court would refer to him as _Prince Kurt's whore_."

"He's frightened, Kurt. He's frightened and he lashed out like any cornered animal," Burt soothed. "You and I both know you aren't the man he described. And if he spent time with you, then in his heart, he most likely knows the same."

"I still don't know what to do," Kurt mumbled against his father's chest.

"Didn't you tell Lord Anderson there's always a choice? It seems to me you have a choice – go see him, or don't. Only one of those is going to stop the dragons from circling your head."

Rolling his eyes at his father's teasing words, Kurt asked, "And if his father does go through with the threat to cut off his inheritance? What do I tell Blaine then?"

"That he's welcome in the castle? We'll find a position in which he can serve – so that he has his own source of income. And he can have one of the guest rooms – Lord knows we have enough of them."

For the first time in weeks, Burt saw the teasing glint return to his son's eye as he sat back up. "What if Lord Blaine were … amenable to … sharing … a room with me?"

Scratching his chin, King Burt stood on creaky knees, looking deep in thought. "Well, I suppose the laundress would find that more than acceptable, as you'd be saving her the work of washing two sets of sheets."

"Father!"

Wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders, Burt led his son down the path that would take them back to the castle proper. "You've been your own man for quite some time now, Kurt. You're a Knight in the King's Army. You're a Prince of the Kingdom. If you've found a willing man to warm your bed at night, I have no objections."

Dropping a kiss on his son's head, Burt gave him a gentle shove. "Of course, you need to go find out just how willing that man is. Go to him, Kurt. Tell him how you feel and then bring him back home."

At his father's parting words, Kurt broke out into an enormous grin.

He would find Blaine.

He would tell Blaine how he felt.

He would bring Blaine back with him.

Back home.


	15. Let's Go Home

A storm had come roaring across the land with pounding rain whipped by fierce winds. And while the Anderson Manor's roof held back the worst of the deluge, the wind managed to creep through the smallest of cracks, creating a draft that caused the candles to flicker.

The weather matched Blaine's mood.

Duke Anderson hadn't wasted any time. Three days earlier a court page had arrived with the news that, by order of King Hummel, the Writ of Marriage between Lord Anderson and Lady Berry had been rescinded. Blaine had escaped his father's wrath that night when the duke had chosen instead to drown his troubles in brandy.

This evening found Blaine sitting in the airy dining room, surrounded by the adopted daughters of Countess Susanna Sylvester each of whom came dressed to impress. Unfortunately for them, Blaine wasn't.

The servants had been ordered to remove the extra leaves from wooden table, making for a much more intimate setting – with only the seven of them in attendance. His father and mother sat at one end, discussing some tidbit of court gossip with the Countess while Blaine gave a half-hearted attempt at paying attention to the nattering voices of Lady Quinn, Lady Kitty, and Lady Rebecca. At least he and Lady Rachel had had some common interests in music and theater.

"Did you hear?" Sitting next to Blaine, Lady Rebecca leaned towards her sisters as if sharing a confidence, but failed to actually lower her voice. "Prince Finn has been seen riding out of the castle to court a young woman. There seems to be some confusion as to which eligible lady has caught his eye." A satisfied smirk settled on her face at her news.

Lady Quinn and Lady Kitty exchanged a look as Blaine watched them closely. "Yes," he answered with a sigh. "I believe the prince is courting Lady Berry." He rested his head in his hand, bored with the conversation and unable to keep his mind from wandering back to a pair of icy blue eyes that gazed at him with such passion.

"Lady Berry?" scoffed Lady Quinn. "What would the prince ever see in that troll?"

Picking up his wine goblet, Blaine drank deeply before pouring himself another full cup. Giving it a moment's consideration, he topped off the ladies' glasses as well. "Maybe he's falling in love with her, Lady Quinn."

"_Love_?" sniggered Lady Kitty. "Like a prince would be allowed to marry for love? He's having a tryst, and eventually he'll leave her with a fond memory of their youthful indiscretion before she marries someone more acceptable to her position."

"Someone like me?" scowled Blaine. He watched as the pink flush began on the pale skin of Lady Kitty's chest and spread up her neck to her face. "It's no secret that she and I signed the Writ that was rescinded by the king. So the daughter of an earl is an acceptable match to a duke's son, but not to a prince. Tell me … where does that leave the three of you?"

Shoving away from the table, Blaine took up his wine goblet one last time, draining it completely before turning to storm off. But the sight of Prince Kurt and his guardsmen striding into the dining room and up to the table stopped him in his tracks.

"Kurt," Blaine croaked.

Ignoring the ladies' feigned gasps of shock at Blaine's use of his name, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine, kissing the curls on the side of his head. "I missed you too much to stay away any longer," he murmured to Blaine.

The sound of glass shattering startled everyone in the room.

"What are you doing here?" shouted the Duke picking up another goblet from the table and throwing it across the room. "Who let you in?"

Letting go of Blaine, Kurt flicked his wet hair from his face, water droplets flying about haphazardly. "I've come for Blaine," Kurt explained, his tone hard.

Throwing his napkin on the ground, the duke stood up, his face full of rage. "What do you mean, '_you've come for Blaine'_?"

Between learning to maneuver his way around court politics and his years serving in the King's Army, Kurt was well-versed in staring down an opponent. "I've come for your son, Your Grace. If Blaine is willing, I've come to offer him-"

"I **know** what you want to offer him," shouted the duke, rounding the table as he moved towards his son and Kurt. "A _filthy_ place in your bed. You have **no idea** what his … proclivities are costing me – both in business and in reputation. He will stay _here_ and he will marry a young woman of standing, Your Highness. Not even a Prince of the Kingdom can force a marriage."

"But a _duke_ can, Father?" For Blaine to have actually confronted his father meant the wine had gone to his head.

Kurt wasn't quick enough to spare Blaine the stinging slap from his father, but moments later he was quite satisfied to see Sir Noah and Sir Spencer with their swords pointed at the duke's throat. Wrapping an arm around Blaine's shoulders, Kurt shook his head in disappointment.

"I've come tonight to offer Blaine his own room at the castle and a position working for the king. I do this so the father and mother who clearly don't deserve him, can no longer lord over him their threats of disinheritance in order to force a marriage contract." Looking directly into Blaine's eyes, Kurt finished. "If, in time, Lord Blaine wishes to share my bed, _that_ will remain, as always, _his choice_."

"And really, Duke Anderson, if you don't like to see your reputation tarnished at the whisperings of others, perhaps you should cease passing along the latest gossip yourself. Sometimes, Your Grace, the rules apply to everyone."

Slipping his hand into Blaine's, Kurt tugged gently, pulling Blaine out of his reverie. When they reached the threshold, Kurt glanced at members of Duke Andersons's staff who'd been serving the dinner and dessert courses. "Lord Blaine's things are to be packed and delivered to the palace by tonight. Within the next week, anyone wishing to serve in the King's household need only to come to the office of Lady Lopez. Positions will be found for all."

Gasps of "Thank you, Your Highness," and "Yes, Your Highness," came from many voices as they walked through the doorway and into the hall. Kurt didn't need to glance backwards to know that Spencer and Noah had carefully followed behind – the sound of their boots echoed loudly through the hall.

Nodding at the servant who held the front door open, Kurt gestured for Blaine to go first, before following him out into the rain. Jogging to the stables, Kurt finally worked up the courage to ask, "You _do_ want to come with me, right? I realize I just pulled you out of the room, but you never answered whether you wanted to come with me or not. It _is_ a choice, Blaine. I'm not expecting anything from you."

In the pouring rain, Blaine stopped staring at Kurt for what seemed an eternity.

Kurt's anxiety grew and he hurried to explain himself further. "Not having expectations doesn't mean I don't have desires, Blaine. I do. I haven't stopped thinking about you since you left." Kurt bit his lower lip, nervously whispering, "Please choose me, Blaine."

"Dude! Hurry up and kiss him so we can all go home," groused Sir Noah as he approached with the horses. "It's fucking raining and I'm fucking wet and if you two could just stop fucking each other with your eyes, we could hurry up and get home, where you could actually fuck in a bed. Where it's warm. And dry. And not fucking raining."

"Ow! Fuck, Spencer. What was that for?" Noah rubbed the back of his head.

"Not. Helping. Puckerman," bit off Spencer, wiping the dirt from his hand on his soaked pants. "We're going to ride out to the gate, Your Highness," he offered, swinging up into the saddle.

As Spencer and Noah road down the gravel road, Kurt focused back on Blaine standing in the drenching rain, water streaming off of the dark curls, staring at his feet. He was beautiful.

"I'm sorry," Blaine offered softly. Raising his head, Blaine met Kurt's gaze. "M'head's fuzzy from the wine. C'n we go?

"Of course. Let me help you up," Kurt said, slipping a hand under Blaine's arm while he struggled into the saddle of Kurt's horse. After swinging up into the saddle himself, Kurt pulled Blaine snuggly against him, using his knees to direct his horse to follow after Puck and Spencer. "Let's go home."


	16. It's Quite the Fairy Tale

The night he'd left his father's house, Blaine had slipped into a deep wine-induced sleep, cradled in Kurt's arms as they rode. He had no recollection of the ride, nor of Kurt carrying him from the stables through the castle to the guest quarters next to his own. What he did remember was waking up in an unfamiliar, though deliciously comfortable, bed late the next morning, confused until the memories of the evening's events came flooding back.

Almost a month had passed since that night – a month where he'd been given a room to call his own and a place in the household, assisting Lady Lopez's staff with the day to day and long term organization of various royal events. It was work he turned out to be surprisingly good at, and it gave him a sense of fulfillment to be contributing in some way.

And then there was Prince Kurt.

Whatever misconceptions Blaine had once entertained about the prince being pampered or catered to, they'd quickly fallen to the wayside as he settled in to the castle life. Kurt was constantly busy – both with his duties as a knight in the Royal Army and with the day to day governing of the lands. Like the sailing ships in the Royal harbor, Blaine had passed Kurt frequently enough, but rare was the opportunity for more than just a few words, typically Kurt asking how Blaine was adjusting to life in the castle before one or the other of them was pulled away on some matter of importance.

It left Blaine with the feeling of uncertainty. In his foggy memories of the moments before leaving his father's house for good, Blaine thought he remembered Kurt using words like desire and want. But then again, it might have been the wine.

In frustration, or desperation, Blaine had sought out Sir Spencer for advice.

He'd waited one afternoon as Spencer drilled with wooden swords against two, then three, and then four other men. Blaine had recognized Sir Noah Puckerman and both Prince Kurt and Prince Finn among the knights honing their skills. When finally the Sword Master held his arm up, the men stopped. Blaine had stood by the water bucket, waiting until Spencer came to drink his fill before asking for a few minutes of his time.

"And what insight do you seek from me, water nymph?" Spencer teased quietly after drinking his fill.

"I need some advice. About the prince," Blaine murmured, toeing at a rock that was caught up in the dirt yard.

With nothing further said, Spencer had taken Blaine's arm, and led him out of the drilling yard.

Neither one of them had noticed Prince Kurt staring after them – or Prince Finn placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

Spencer had led him down a complicated series of hallways until they reached an unassuming door where he knocked twice and entered before being acknowledged. A slender man with red hair that just reached his shoulders sat behind a large desk piled with scrolls and papers. Striding over, Spencer greeted the man with a chaste kiss before turning to officially introduce Special Emissary Alistair James, his husband.

Alistair had swiftly sent his husband to wash and change before they sat down to discuss Blaine's questions. Their hour long discussion in Alistair's office regarding Prince Kurt had led to an invitation to dinner in Spencer and Alistair's private quarters which, after dinner with three bottles of wine, had led to an invitation to their bedroom, which had led to the inevitable.

Blaine had left their quarters in the morning feeling sore, and with both a throbbing headache and a deeper understanding of exactly what Prince Kurt had meant when he spoke of scratching an itch but the rash remaining. Spending time with Alistair and Spencer had only made his desire to be with Prince Kurt grow.

But it seemed the fates were conspiring against that every happening.

Until last evening.

Attending the state dinner held in honor of several visiting ambassadors, Blaine had found himself seated next to Kurt who entertained the younger children of the dignitaries by telling stories in an unfamiliar language. Unfortunately, not even the exciting stories of Prince Kurt could keep the youngest child awake – and it was only Blaine's quick reaction that kept the little girl's face from falling directly into her main course.

Carefully picking up the girl, Blaine cradled her against his shoulder. "Your Highness, would you ask her parents if I could bring her back to their rooms for them?"

Kurt smiled up at Blaine before turning and speaking with the dignitaries. "Come on," Kurt said softly, standing up and placing his hand on Blaine's back, guiding him towards the end of the table. "We'll take the youngest ones back to their nanny," he said, stooping down as a red-headed boy launched himself up Kurt's back, arms tight around his neck. Two other children followed them through the castle as they made their way towards the guest quarters.

Blaine opened the door to the nursery, waving an older woman back into her chair as he slipped into the bedroom to place the little girl on the enormous bed. Draping a throw blanket over her, Blaine slipped back out, giving a small wave to the other children who were playing with their toys while Kurt spoke with their nanny.

Leaving the room, Blaine walked down the hallway, debating in his head whether he should return to the state dinner where he'd sit silently until the dessert course had been cleared away, or return to his office to wrap up some paperwork. Deep in thought, he was caught off-guard when Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist, pulling him against his chest, halting their progress.

"In a hurry, Lord Blaine?" he murmured against Blaine's ear, hands skimming up and down Blaine's chest.

Sighing, Blaine felt obligated to point out, "It's not Lord Blaine, Your Highness."

"It's not 'Your Highness'," Kurt retorted. "Not when we're alone and you're in my arms. But back to my original question – are you in a hurry to return to your fork and plate?"

"Return to a dinner where I don't speak the language that everyone else is speaking? No, not particularly," Blaine admitted, turning in Kurt's arms so he could look into those piercing blue orbs. "But I would expect the King and Queen-Consort would notice if you don't return."

"Have you never broken a rule, Blaine?" Kurt teased, guiding Blaine backwards until his back hit the wall. Once Blaine was trapped by his body, Kurt began to tug his shirt from his belt so he could touch the smooth skin underneath.

Running his fingers over Kurt's hips, Blaine answered drolly, "Well, there was that time when against my father's express wishes, I involved myself with another man." Try as he might, he couldn't take his gaze from Kurt's lips.

"Mmm, sounds serious. How did that adventure end?" Kurt leaned closer, brushing his lips across Blaine's cheek as his hands slid over Blaine's belly.

"I was saved by a prince. It's quite the fairy tale," Blaine murmured, tightening his hold.

"Happily ever after?" Kurt asked. Bringing their lips together, Kurt kissed him with deliberate slowness, stoking this burning heat between them.

Nipping Kurt's jaw, Blaine was too distracted to be anything but honest. "To be determined. He's a busy prince. Of late, I've been unsure where I stand with him."

Kurt pulled back, looking surprised. "I. I'm sorry, Blaine. I had you seated next to me at dinner tonight because I wanted the opportunity to speak with you unfettered by other distractions. I had no idea I'd end up in conversation the entire time – and in a language you don't speak."

A seriousness settled over Kurt's expression. "Come on. We're going to have that talk."

"But the dinner -" protested Blaine.

"Is a dinner," Kurt answered with finality. Making his way towards the gardens pulling Blaine after him, Kurt grabbed the elbow of the first palace guard they passed. "Send word to Sir Porter that Prince Kurt is battling dragons in the Queen's gardens. He should inform the King not to expect me back at the dinner."

"Dragons, sir?" asked the confused guard.

Kurt waved away the question, walking away with Blaine. "You heard correctly."

Looking over at Blaine, Kurt gave him a rather shy smile. "A particularly beautiful, hazel-eyed dragon to be exact."

* * *

_End Note: Life's been a bit ... uneven of late. As always, writing gives me an outlet for the stress of the real world. So thank you for reading. k8_


	17. Borrowing a Dragon

**A/N:** _Hi All! I'm posting this early ... well, I suppose it is Friday in parts of the world. Today I watched a bunch of robed individuals cross a stage to accept a diploma - Congrats to all of you who've graduated as part of the class of 2015. Tomorrow is my last official day of the 2014-15 academic year. Whew! My point being, if I don't post this now, I will forget. And I wouldn't want to do that to you. Enjoy!_

* * *

Wrapping a wool cloak he'd taken from the gardeners' mud room around Blaine's shoulders, Kurt gestured towards the stone pathway they should take. Their pilfered cloaks were scant protection against the frigid night air. Intertwining his fingers with Blaine's, Kurt led him through the gardens, mostly by memory. While thousands of stars shone down in the cloudless night sky, the moon stayed hidden, leaving scant light to see by.

Taking a breath, Kurt gathered the courage to address a situation that had been gnawing at him for weeks now. "You took Spencer and Alistair as lovers," he said with a sigh.

Blaine drew to a stop and tried to remove his hand from Kurt's who only held on more tightly. "So have you," he countered, unsure why he was having to defend his actions to a man who'd made no claims on him since he'd come to the castle.

"Not since you came to live here. Honestly, not since … I haven't shared a bed with any man since you, Blaine." Kurt raised his hand to cup Blaine's face, gliding his thumb over his trembling lower lip. "Watching you leave with Spencer that day in the yards … seeing him the next day with fresh bruises. Knowing you'd had a hand in putting them there on his body." Voice cracking, Kurt stopped his explanation.

"How could you possibly know that?" protested Blaine pulling away and striding down the walking path.

Kurt swallowed hard before following after. "I asked. I asked Alistair because the not knowing felt as if it was burning a hole in me from the inside out."

Blaine spun, eyes flashing with anger. "And did Special Emissary James share **why** I'd sought out Sir Porter in the first place? Or did all you want to know is whether or not I'd allowed them to fuck me?"

"That's not it," Kurt cried. He attempted to embrace Blaine, only to be thwarted when Blaine side-stepped his advances. "Don't pull away. Please. I _was_ jealous. I **_am_** jealous. Spencer was right – no one has _ever_ gotten under my skin like you have. I want _more_ with you, Blaine."

Throwing out his hands, Kurt continued purging his soul. "You came with me when I asked. But I worried it was only because you'd had too much to drink and didn't remember the things I shared with you that night. So I retreated, but not because I gave up, but because I wanted a chance to regroup. I wanted to give you time to adjust to life here before I approached you again."

As the emotional frustration drained from Kurt, he seemed to deflate before Blaine's eyes. "But suddenly I realized I might have waited too long," he admitted miserably.

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, Blaine absorbed Kurt's words and the emotions behind them. Scrubbing his face, he stared up into the stars as if they'd give him the words to say. "You haven't," he murmured. "You're closer to Spencer than any other person here, save Lady Lopez and I didn't need _her_ advice on how to approach you – or whether or not I should approach you."

Cautiously Kurt stepped closer, tentatively sneaking his hand inside Blaine's cloak and around his slender waist. "Honestly, I don't want to be _just_ your friend. I want you as mine, Lord Blaine. I want you awaiting my return when I travel, dining next to me in the evenings, and warming my bed at night."

Sniffling, Blaine wiped tears from his eyes. "Part of me wants that as well."

"Only part?" Kurt asked, voice full of pain.

Blaine closed what little distance remained between them, wrapping his arms around Kurt's neck. "You're the Crown Prince. When you marry, it will be arranged for political gain – and I'm not strong enough to stand on the sidelines and watch as you pretend to love some other woman – or man."

"Now you're just borrowing my dragons, Blaine," Kurt observed with a chuckle. "_When_ I marry, it will be to the man I've fallen deeply in love with, the man I cannot see living my life without. One of those princely benefits I keep telling you about."

"I don't want to fall further in love with you only to have you stripped away from me."

Lips feathering over Blaine's, Kurt assured, "I'm not going anywhere. Except maybe to a bed chamber where I can spend the next several hours showing you just how much I need you in my life, Lord Blaine."

"I would have no objections. Your Highness." Smirking at the prince, Blaine kissed away his protest of Blaine's use of his title. Then he made it his goal to kiss the prince senseless.

Kurt's fingers made quick work on the lacings and buttons of Blaine's vest and shirt, wanting nothing more at this moment than to feel the warm skin under his palms as he deepened their kiss.

"It's quite cold out here," Blaine commented, running his teeth down the chords of Kurt's neck. His fingers were not quite as adept at removing clothing as Kurt's, but he was able to find some bare skin to caress.

"Mmm, true," Kurt conceded, "but if we go back inside right now, we'll have to make ourselves presentable. Plus, we're much more easily found inside the castle."

"Thus much easier to interrupt," Blaine murmured against Kurt's collarbone.

"Come on," Kurt breathed, yanking away from Blaine and tugging him down a side path. Giggling to themselves, they ran hand in hand towards a gazebo sheltered by several willow trees.

Nearing the structure, Kurt heard a noise that had him propelling Blaine behind a nearby shrub. Before Blaine could say anything, Kurt placed a finger over his delectable lips, silencing him. Creeping forward, Kurt peered around the shrub towards the gazebo to see if what his senses told him could possibly be true. Blaine nudged his way under Kurt's arm to see what had drawn Kurt's concern.

Prince Finn sprawled out over the bench.

Lady Rachel's head in his lap.

Prince Finn's deep moan.

Lady Rachel's coughing fit.

"Finn, it's just so big. I don't understand how you expect me to be able to be able to … _do_ … this with your manhood. Maybe if you were smaller, like Lord Anderson."

"Rachel! Are you saying you've done _this_ with Anderson?"

* * *

_End Note: Oh, dear. Well, on a positive note, summer vacation means I will have the time to return to, and complete, Cheer Captain ... and Shove Me Harder. As well as bring this story to a close. Wishing you all a lovely weekend. k8_


	18. With Locks Lots of Locks on the Door

_A/N: Here is your Tuesday installment. I will try to get the next chapter up on or around Friday. It's written, but our weekend is insanely busy (dance, dance and more dance) - so I will just need to remember I have a life outside of costumes &amp; hairspray. Also, a heads up, I will not be posting next week (6/15-6/21). I'll be traveling - involving an airplane &amp; several time zones. Thank you for reading! k8_

* * *

Blaine yanked himself away, ready to run, when Kurt tackled him to the ground.

"Stop it!" Kurt whispered harshly in his ear, leaning his body heavily against Blaine's slighter form. "You're not running away from me again."

Blaine tried to press up from the ground, but Kurt's solid weight on top kept him pinned where he was. "But she-" he grunted. "Kurt, I never. She never. _**Fuck**_."

"She is a twittering idiot who lacks experience with a man," Kurt interrupted. "I never thought for a moment that you and she had done anything of the sort." Pressing up on his knees and elbows just enough to alleviate some of his weight on Blaine, Kurt could feel Blaine tense beneath him. "What?"

"I'm an idiot who lacks experience with a man," Blaine whispered, dropping his head onto his arms.

Kurt took three deep breaths before sitting back on his knees and forcing Blaine to sit up and look him in the face. Before he could reassure Blaine, the sounds of slapping skin and breathless moans reached them. "**Fuck**!" burst Kurt, "I can't do this here. Not with them … doing _that_. Come on."

Grasping Blaine's hand, Kurt strode back towards the castle, muttering about how that was just about the most disgusting thing he'd ever walked in on, other than perhaps an incident involving Sir Noah and three bar maids and some freshly churned butter.

For his part, Blaine did his best to brush the dirt from his clothing and make himself look more presentable than his current _I've-just-been-tumbled-in-the-bushes_ appearance.

Slamming the door to the gardeners' mud room shut behind him, Kurt hung the cloaks back on their hooks, and buttoned his shirt back up. Eyes ablaze with desire, Kurt picked several leaves out of Blaine's curls before tightening his hold, bringing Blaine closer. "Do not ever – in my presence – compare yourself to that little … _girl_ … who has so enamored my brother. Saving you from marriage to her was the second best choice I have ever made. The first was invoking the Consent article and taking you to my bed so you could know _**exactly** _what you'd be missing – _**feel** _what you'd be missing. And to be frank, Lord Blaine, that's exactly where we're going to end up tonight."

"_Kurt_-"

"No. I don't want to hear it, Blaine. A man has needs only his lover can provide for him. I _need_ you tonight. Do you understand? **I. Need. You.**" Crushing their lips together, Kurt dominated Blaine, showing him with his tongue how he needed Blaine to take him in bed.

Breaking away, Kurt took Blaine by the hand and led him through the castle towards his room. A familiar nervousness filled Blaine's stomach – the anticipation of what was to come. Kurt stopped him in front of his bedroom door, cupping Blaine's face and kissing him passionately.

"Your Highness!"

Yanking back from Blaine, Kurt glared at the knight hurrying towards him. "Dammit all to hell, Spencer," Kurt spat.

Looking truly contrite, Spencer stood in front of his friends, holding up a hand before Kurt could rip into him further. "I'm sorry, Kurt. You have no idea how sorry. Missives have come from the southern borders. We've been attacked. The Sword Master intends for us to leave within the hour."

Stunned, Kurt stood staring at his best friend as his words sunk in. It was Blaine moving around him to give Spencer a tight hug that finally broke his reverie. "I'll be down shortly."

Nodding, Spencer walked away.

* * *

Blaine sat on Kurt's bed, watching him pack a rucksack with essentials. The night had certainly brought with it a variety of emotions. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but held back knowing Kurt wouldn't have the answer to when he'd be returning, or why they might have been attacked. Instead, he focused on sitting on his hands rather than giving in to the temptation to bite his finger nails.

"I hate to leave you like this," Kurt murmured, draping a warm woolen cloak over his bag. Moving to stand before Blaine, Kurt stooped to embrace the man he hoped to take as his permanent lover.

"You have a duty, Kurt. You're a knight. You help people who need you. And right now, they need you more than I do." As the reality of the situation sunk further in, Blaine began to tremble. "Just … come home to me," he whispered, burying his face in Kurt's shirt. "I need you too."

Clearing his throat, Kurt ran his hand over Blaine's head, memorizing how his soft curls felt against his touch. "I promise I will do _everything_ in my power to come home to you. Before I go, may I ask one thing of you?"

Sniffling, Blaine nodded.

Sitting next to Blaine on the bed, Kurt took both of his hands in his own. "_Wait_ for me to come back. I know it won't be easy, wondering. And there will be offers. You're too handsome to be ignored, especially while I'm out of the castle. But please … don't take comfort from another man. I need you to be mine, Blaine." Placing a soft kiss on Blaine's cheek, he skimmed his lips down until Blaine's mouth was against his own.

Blaine kissed the prince softly, trying desperately to ignore their impending separation. Shaking his head, Blaine pulled away to look at their joined hands. "You have to know, I've been yours for months now, Your Highness."

Eyes narrowing, Kurt growled in frustration. "Blaine!" he warned.

Smirking at Kurt, Blaine placed a finger on his lips, silencing his protest. "Will you make me the same promise, Your Highness? Will you promise to wait until you return to me? A commoner?"

"There's _nothing_ common about you," Kurt insisted, rolling Blaine beneath him as he claimed his lips in a heated kiss. "Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise, Lord Blaine. You fit this prince perfectly." Kurt gripped Blaine's knee, encouraging him to wrap his legs around Kurt's waist as they moved against each other.

A loud knock followed by the opening of the door had them stopping, Kurt burying his face in Blaine's shoulder. "When we return, I am taking you away from here, to somewhere where we can be alone. With locks. Lots of locks on the doors."

Blaine's giggle turned into a sob as Kurt pulled away. Hand pressed to his mouth, Blaine motioned to Kurt to go before he broke down further.

When the door snicked shut, Blaine climbed into Kurt's bed, wrapped his arms around Kurt's pillow and let the tears flow.


	19. An Echoing Silence

_A/N: It'll be Friday here in less than two hours - and I'll not have time to post tomorrow or Saturday. And by Sunday I'll forget and Monday I'll be packing so here you go...hugs &amp; have a delicious weekend. k8_

* * *

_-forty three days later-_

Setting the parchment he'd been reading down on his desk, Blaine stared out the window as a fire crackled in his office fireplace. Flakes of snow fell hard, as they had been doing for the past three days and nights. It had been six weeks since Kurt and the other knights of the Royal Army had marched from the castle to defend their southern borders.

Although Kurt had sent missives to both his father and Special Emissary Porter, the last contact Blaine had had with the prince was the night he walked out of his bedroom. Each time Lady Lopez or the Watch Commander asked Blaine to carry one of the messages to the king, or Alistair, he told himself to be grateful in the knowledge that Kurt was still alive.

But after the third missive from Prince Finn arrived for Lady Rachel Berry, Blaine began to require the court pages assigned to the High Clerk's office to deliver those messages. Blaine found it near impossible to handle her emotional outbursts when he placed the envelopes in her hand. Plus, it made him infinitely jealous.

His work for High Clerk Lopez kept him busy with numerous tasks, all essential to the operation of the court. Currently, the seating placements for the banquet in celebration of Mid-Winter kept Blaine occupied. After directly supervising Blaine's work on two previous occasions, Lady Lopez trusted him to do it without assistance. She'd complimented him on his natural knack for knowing who to place next to whom.

Unfortunately, it was still a shock to see his father and mother's names on the guest list. Awash in memories, Blaine had no sense of how much time he'd spent staring out the window when a sharp rap in the door frame drew his attention.

"Have you decided where to place the Duke and Duchess Anderson?" His red hair brushing the shoulders of a dark grey tunic, Special Emissary Alistair Porter stood leaning in the doorway to Blaine's office, smiling at the man who'd quickly become his friend.

Waving Alistair to a chair in front of his desk, Blaine smiled ruefully. "Nice guess. My current plan is to sit them with the Smythes. And maybe Countess Sylvester and her daughters. Then I could spend my evening distancing myself from that one table instead of three. And my father could spend the evening with Sebastian. That alone would make it worthwhile – if I have the courage to go through with it."

"Seat them by the doors that lead to the Spring Garden," advised Alistair. "One of the pages sent a ball through the glass earlier this week, and it will be at least another three before the glass can be fully replaced. And while the wooden boards keep the snow out, no one will have the opportunity to show off their finery, as they'll be forced to wear their winter coats the entire dinner. I thought we could seat the squires there – but I think it only appropriate for such distinguished guests as your father and mother."

"That's … wicked," Blaine snickered, covering his grin with his hand. Quill scratching across the parchment, made the edits Alistair suggested.

"You're welcome. And make sure you seat yourself at the table with myself and the Ladies Lopez and Pierce." Alistair spun around the parchment with Blaine's notes on it so he could look at it more carefully. "Lord Roderick and his guest should be seated with us. Also, I would place Lord Sheldon Bieste with the Schuesters. Make sure their table resides on the opposite side of the ballroom from Countess Sylvester."

"Thank you," Blaine said, picking up his quill and making the adjustments. Looking up, he pressed his lips together in thought. "Would you like some tea?" At Alistair's nod of assent, Blaine rose to pull an extra cup from a cabinet behind his desk and then moved the tea pot covered in a towel to his desk, pouring them both cups of the sweetened brown liquid.

Passing the cup to Alistair, Blaine returned to his seat, looking at his reflection in the porcelain cup. "Have you heard from Sir Spencer?" Blaine asked, watching his finger travel around the rim of his tea cup.

Alistair swallowed the warm liquid then set his cup down on the edge of Blaine's desk. "Once. A brief note after the majority of fighting had ceased and they'd begun negotiations for peace."

Dropping his head onto his hand, Blaine mulled over Alistair's words. Only once had Sir Spencer found the time to write to his husband. Perhaps Kurt's silence had other causes than a growing disinterest with Blaine himself. But then again, Prince Finn had managed to find time to write seven or eight letters to Lady Berry. He didn't know what to think.

"Care to share what has you looking like a thundercloud?" Alistair asked softly. Becoming fast friends with Blaine over the past few weeks, Alistair knew that Blaine craved independence and control over his life – a result of living under the critical eye of Duke Anderson. Pushing Blaine to reveal too much before he was ready would only have the young man withdrawing into his head further.

Blaine sighed, and slumped back in his chair. "I've been here for almost three months, but I could count the conversations I've had with Prince Kurt on both hands. Well, the real conversations anyway. I thought, when he left, that we were getting closer to coming to terms as to what we wanted with whatever it is that exists between us."

Feeling nervous as he tried to articulate his emotions, Blaine picked up the quill and combed the feather with his fingertips. "I don't know if what I feel is real, or if it's something I've built up in my head. I've never done this before. Any of it. And I've been asked to deliver almost weekly letters to Lady Berry from Prince Finn."

"That can't be awkward in the least," Alistair's droll observation brought a half smile to Blaine's face.

"It's been the highlight of each week," Blaine commented dryly, raising an eyebrow at Alistair. "Especially each time she apologizes for '_choosing Prince Finn over me, but of course I must understand because, well he is a prince, and they are in love_'," he mimicked. "Then she cries. And not _lady-cry _but enormous sobs, heaving bosoms and the works. I've been sending the court pages since she ruined my second shirt."

Alistair snorted in response.

"Where was I going with this?" Blaine murmured, glancing at his desk as he tried to recall his train of thought. "Oh, yes. So Prince Finn has managed to write seven or eight letters to Lady Rachel. You even received word from Sir Spencer. And while Prince Kurt has found time to write to you and his father – on important matters of state, I am sure – he hasn't sent word to me. And I've been trying to figure out what, if anything, that means. Is it because he's too busy or doesn't care or doesn't fancy himself a writer or he met someone else."

"Or he finally found the woman of his dreams?"

"Right, exactly. He finally … wait, what?" Blaine's face crumpled in confusion as Alistair's teasing words finally sunk in.

Running his fingers through his hair, Alistair intertwined them at the base of his neck, and offered Blaine a knowing smile. "Oh, was worrying Kurt had forsaken you for a woman not on your list of possibilities? Well, that's something at least."

"Blaine," he said, leaning forward, "the only reason for his lack of contact is because he's been busy. Overwhelmingly busy. Like, come back home and sleep for nearly a week straight, busy. Believe me, you are probably the first think he thinks of when he wakes and the last image he holds in his mind before sleep claims him."

"I knew I was being stupid," muttered Blaine.

"Not stupid. You have feelings for him that run deeper than you've ever had before and besides having him home safe beside you, what you want most in this world at this moment is to know where you stand with him." Alistair took a long drink from his cup of tea before refilling it back up. "He asked you for fidelity?"

Blaine blinked several times, then nodded affirmatively.

"And have you been? Faithful?"

Sitting up straight, Blaine looked affronted. "Yes!"

"Then why, my dear Lord Blaine, would you think that Prince Kurt, who carries the same feelings for you as you hold for him, would be less than faithful to you during a time of national crisis?"

Pressing his lips together tightly, Blaine shrugged.

"Again, it's not stupid, what you're feeling – just … unwarranted. I'm not sure you appreciate what it took for Kurt to invoke the Consent article and bring you to his bed. What it meant to him to do so."

A clearing of a throat drew both men's attention.

King Burt Hummel stood just inside the doorway, hands deep inside the pockets of his trousers. "Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. No, don't stand," he insisted, waving them back into their seats as they tried to rise for etiquette's sake. Crossing to the unoccupied chair next to Alistair's, King Burt sat on the arm and looked at both men before taking a deep breath.

"I felt obligated to bring the news to both of you personally," he began. A small smile formed on his face as he ran the palm of his hand over his bald pate. "Rather considerate of you both to be in the same location so I don't have to repeat myself."

Leaning forward, Blaine attempted to prepare himself for news that King Burt would think was important enough to take time out of his busy schedule to deliver face to face.

"Prince Finn has just returned from the southern battlefields with the majority of the Royal Army," Burt explained, gazing out the window at the falling snow. "Neither Prince Kurt nor Sir Porter are with the knights that arrived this evening. I thought you should hear that from me."

Alistair glanced at Blaine before turning slightly to face King Burt. "And when will Kurt and Spencer arrive, Your Majesty?"

Pressing his lips together tightly, King Burt appeared to be considering his words carefully. "Unfortunately their arrival is dependent on the weather. Most likely, another week. If the snow continues, then ten days."

"I don't understand," Blaine said, voice cracking slightly. "Why weren't they traveling with the rest of the army?"

King Burt bit his lower lip. "They're with the wounded."

* * *

_End Note: Oh dear. What a lovely cliff. And I'm going on vacation for a week too. I really didn't plan it this way. Um, okay, I will offer you this: there is impending smut of the Klaine variety the week I return. Come on, that made it a little better, right? _


	20. Waiting For You

**A/N**: I'm back! Survived dance rehearsal &amp; recital (two kids, eight shows, 16 costume changes). Survived whirlwind trip to NYC - and yes, that's _**exactly** _why I went. Also got to tour the 9/11 Memorial and take a carriage ride in Central Park. Bucket List items checked off. I'll share a bit more below, but it's time for you to get off that cliff I left you on. -k8

* * *

King Burt realized his error in phrasing when both Blaine and Alistair turned ashen and slumped back in their chairs. "No, gentlemen," he gruffed, "they are traveling **_with_** the wounded – not actually hurt themselves. I apologize for misspeaking." He reached over to squeeze Alistair's shoulder, regret written across his face.

Burying his face in his hands, Blaine leaned forward and concentrated on breathing slowly in order to alleviate his lightheadedness. "Thank goodness," he breathed. The pounding of his blood rushing through his veins was all he could hear as he fought to control the shaking of his hands.

_Kurt was safe. _

_Kurt was okay. _

_Kurt was coming back to him._

He was aware of the soft murmurings between Alistair and the king, and then the sound of the wooden door closing. It startled Blaine when a firm hand landed on his shoulder, only to move into his mop of curls, tousling them affectionately.

"Blaine, son, I'm terribly sorry," King Burt reiterated.

Sitting up, Blaine shook his head at his king. "Your Majesty, it's fine."

Burt settled for sitting on the edge of Blaine's desk, smiling warmly at the young man. "Yes, well, you say that now, but … if you share this story with my son, especially the part where I just shaved ten years off of your life, Kurt will be less than pleased with me. He's rather taken with you."

Flushing at the realization that the king was discussing their kindling relationship, Blaine flicked the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips. Dropping his gaze, he admitted quietly, "I'm rather taken with your son as well, Your Majesty."

Crossing his arms, Burt studied Duke Anderson's younger son. "Blaine, you are aware that as my blood relation, Kurt is next in line for the throne."

Nodding, Blaine answered, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Letting go of a heavy sigh, Burt asked, "How do you feel the kingdom will react when Kurt takes the throne?"

Blaine raised his eyebrows at the king. "Sir?"

Burt stood and walked over to the window, staring at the falling snow. "We knew Kurt was … _different_ from other boys his age by the time he was three. My wife, Elizabeth, and I fought to bring him up without judgement. Without scorn and derision."

"That sounds … rather pleasant," Blaine offered quietly. Rising from his chair, he crossed to stand next to the king.

"I can't imagine what life was like growing up in the Duke's household, son. From what little I've gathered, it must have been your own bit of hell." Turning to face Blaine, King Burt offered a half smile.

"I worry when Kurt accepts the crown, those citizens who don't hold with people loving others of the same gender will cause problems for him. And there is the issue of an heir. The two of you wouldn't be able to produce an heir by … traditional means. There are some within the peerage who would object to Kurt taking the throne based on that alone."

Swallowing hard, Blaine was floored at what King Burt had just suggested. "Your Majesty … I." Blaine stopped, taking a breath while he gathered his thoughts. "I don't think Kurt would accept marriage to a woman for political purpose. Those men and women with objections will just have to accept that the prince will choose to adopt. Or use a surrogate. Or if he doesn't like those options, perhaps he'll name Finn's child heir."

King Burt gave Blaine a considering look before his lips twitched into a smile. "Indeed."

The king paused for a long moment. "I want you to understand something. Whether things work out between you and Kurt – something tells me you're exactly the man to support him when he needs it, and put him in his place when that too is required – your place in this court is secure. Your job with the High Clerk is **not** contingent on a relationship with my son."

Raking his teeth over his lower lip, Blaine nodded his understanding. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I never imagined my life would end up like this … but I'm rather enjoying where I've ended up. I'm forever in your debt for providing a place for me in the court and a room in the castle."

Waving away Blaine's words, King Burt stood and walked toward the door. "There is no debt, Blaine. We did what was right, to correct a wrong being perpetrated by a member of the peerage. And as much as I personally enjoy your presence in the court and feel that we received the better end of the deal, rest assured, I would have done it for any subject in my lands."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Placing his hand on the door handle, King Burt turned to give Blaine one last considering look. "When the man who ruled before me invoked the Consent of the King article with my bride, Kurt's mother, it … changed her. I don't think I saw the Elizabeth I fell in love with until after Kurt's birth. Kurt's read her journals. He knows and shares my distaste for _that_ piece of kingdom law. I heard Alistair's question to you – _do you_ understand what it took for Kurt to invoke the Article?"

Swallowing hard, Blaine held King Burt's gaze. "I think I do," he whispered.

"Kurt wouldn't have placed his beliefs aside, unless he felt a connection to you. A connection he'd never felt before and feared he'd never experience again."

Swiping a hand over his head, King Burt explained, "Being apart is difficult for any couple. When your partner is a knight? There are unexpected separations and the constant threat that he might not return to you. When your chosen is royal? You will learn to live with the perpetual fear that someone will attempt to take him from you - by kidnapping – or assassination."

"You're strong enough to face all of that, Blaine. And Kurt … Kurt has fallen in love with you. He wouldn't have sacrificed his beliefs for anything less than that." Clearing his throat, King Burt added, "I'll let you know when I hear from him. And I expect to see you for dinner tonight. The family will be dining in my chambers at seven bells."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Waiting until the king left, Blaine rose and crossed to stand once again in front of the window, placing his palm against the frosty glass. Staring out the window as the snow continued to cover the ground, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that the conversation between the king and himself had actually taken place.

"I miss you, Kurt. Hurry home," he murmured.

* * *

Having tossed several more logs onto the fire burning in the fireplace of this dilapidated inn, Kurt returned to his sleeping pallet, nestled between Spencer and Noah. Out of deference for the wounded, the able-bodied knights had placed those in the worst condition closest to the fire's warmth. The rest lay too far from the fire to maintain any semblance of warmth, especially with the snowy drafts blowing through the cracks in the door and walls.

Sliding under his worn wool blanket, Kurt shivered as his body fought to put out enough heat to replace what had been lost while he'd stoked the fire. Turning to his side, he wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist, creeping his icy fingers under Spencer's tunic.

Spencer retaliated with a swift smack to Kurt's hand. "What the hell are you doing?" he grumbled quietly so to not wake the others.

"Shush. I'm cold," whined Kurt, snuggling even closer. "You're warm. Just trying to defrost my fingers so they don't snap off. I have no intention of otherwise molesting your body."

Noah flopped over onto his back, making sure his arm smacked both Kurt and Spencer in the head. "I'm. Right. Here. If the two of you are gonna try and make some heat by rubbing yourselves together like firewood, I'm finding somewhere else to sleep. You're in a room full of people."

Snorting into Spencer's neck, Kurt murmured, "Like that's ever stopped you before. Don't be jealous, Noah."

"'M not jealous," insisted Puck, crossing his arms defensively and glaring at the back of Kurt's head in the flickering firelight.

"Right. Well, for someone who keeps insisting he's only interested in the female form, you sure complain enough when we don't pay attention to you, Puck." Kurt reached back to pat Noah's stomach affectionately.

Unfortunately, Puck wasn't quite where Kurt thought.

Puck blew out a burst of air as Kurt's hand smacked against his manhood. "Fuck, Hummel."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Puck," Kurt apologized, wriggling around until he could look Noah in the face. "That was an accident."

Curling around himself as he breathed through the pain, Noah looked dubious. "If you wanted to get your hands on the family jewels, you could have just said so," he hissed.

Spencer chuckled quietly as he rolled over to face his friends. "The only jewels our precious Prince wants to get his hands on belong to a certain curly haired man currently occupying quarters at the castle." Feeling Kurt tense beneath his arm, Spencer pulled the prince closer to him. "He's waiting for you."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kurt burrowed his face into the bag currently serving as his pillow. "I hope so," he whispered.

Spencer shared a pointed look with Noah. "_He's waiting for you_. You know it in your heart. So do us all a favor and think about how you're going to greet him when we make it home in a few more days. Sweep him into your arms and kiss him in the center of your father's court – making all the pretty birdies go a flutter with their gossip and innuendo? Have a page slip him a sexy note inviting him to meet you in the gardens at midnight where you make sweet love to him in the moon light?"

Noah grunted. "Dude, it's winter."

Spencer sighed and shrugged. "There is that. What about the stables? It's warmer there – and you wouldn't be exposed to the elements."

"Damn, Spence," Noah groused, "it smells like horse shit in there. And several of the more able bodied knights will already be using that area for their own reunions. Is this how you wooed Alistair? 'Cause if it is, I'm not sure why he's with you."

"Fuck off, Puckerman," Spencer murmured with little heat. "At least my claim to fame doesn't involve three serving girls from a foreign court and the liberal use of freshly churned butter."

"Now who's jealous?" teased Puck.

"Of what?" Spencer shot back. "Your threesome? The only reason why you haven't heard of mine is because I actually exercise discretion with the men I'm with. You know, like locking a door? Not having their father and your prince walk in during your escapades."

Kurt growled low in his throat. "If your intentions were to distract me from my melancholy, it's _not_ working. Now instead of thinking about Lord Anderson, I'm plotting ways of killing you both. Frankly, in the remaining few hours we have to sleep, I'd prefer to be plotting my return to his arms. So. Shut. Up. That's an order. And a royal command."

"Yes, your Highness," Spencer and Noah responded automatically.

With that, Kurt closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep trying to imagine those honey golden eyes gazing into his own.

* * *

_End Note: Spoiler Alert: Smut on Friday. Smutty Smut. On another note, I took my mother with me to NYC. She's been through the wringer health-wise in the last year, so hey, girls trip. Three hours before Hedwig, she tells me we need to go to the ER. Long story short, we made it into our seats with ten minutes to spare. And then, during Sugar Daddy, Mr. Criss came and sat on her lap and licked her face. OMG. I touched his jacket. Thank you for allowing me to share my fan-girl moment. For the record, I am much too old to have a fan-girl moment. More like fan-mom moment. Is that a thing? We'll just keep this between us, yes? Thank you for reading!_


	21. Why Are You Wearing Clothes?

Exhaustion overwhelmed him.

Gesturing with his head, Kurt had one of the court squires follow him into his bathing chamber to assist him with removing his armor and clothing. "Please take these to the armory. Then need cleaning and repair," Kurt murmured, gesturing to the small pile of armor he didn't even have the strength to lift.

The squire scooped everything into his young arms, and sketched out a quick bow. "Welcome home, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Michael. Would you do me one more favor? Inform my personal guard that I'm not to be disturbed for the next three days." Kurt sighed as he stepped into the heated waters.

Ever since he'd swung off his horse in the yard of the castle, Kurt had two priorities: bathe. Blaine. It had been weeks since he'd been able to take the time to bathe properly and he didn't want to approach Blaine until the layers of grime from the road had been removed.

Moving as quickly as his overworked, bruised body would allow, Kurt soaped then rinsed his body. Twice. Because he could. Then he sat on the lowest stair, with only his nose hovering above the waterline, allowing the heat to soak into his muscles. Finally he began to feel the humanity inside him flicker to life.

Grunting with exertion, Kurt pulled himself up and walked out of his bathing pool. Toweling himself dry, he wrapped the cloth around his hips not out of modesty but for the scant protection from the cold it provided. Stepping in to his bedroom, he paused. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace - that was to be expected. The bed, however, was empty, and completely made. This was not expected.

Where was Blaine?

Biting his lip, Kurt wandered to his dressing cabinet, pulling on a sleep shirt and undergarments, then wrapped himself in a warm robe. It never occurred to Kurt, in his fantasies of returning to Blaine's arms, that the man he intended to claim as his lover wouldn't already be sprawled across his bed. If he was going to go looking for Blaine, he had no intention of doing so naked.

Slipping out his quarters, Kurt jogged towards the end of the dimly lit hallway where Blaine had been given quarters. Hand on the doorknob, Kurt swallowed hard before carefully opening the door and stepping inside.

Those familiar chocolate curls peeked out from the blankets, but the rest of Blaine was hidden away from the winter chill. Kurt hurried to the fireplace, tossing two logs on the glowing embers to provide some additional warmth to the room.

Walking to the bed, Kurt dropped his robe on the floor and pulled the edge of the blanket up slipping underneath to press up against Blaine's back and wrapping an arm around his waist.

**_This_** is what had gotten him through the darkest moments of the past several weeks.

Blaine began to wriggle against him, a few quiet whimpers escaping his lips as he twisted around in Kurt's arms. Blinking sleepily, he stared at Kurt.

"Hi," whispered Kurt, tilting his head to give Blaine a soft kiss.

"Mmmm." Blaine gave a throaty moan before nipping Kurt's lower lip, sucking on it lightly. Moving his lips along Kurt's jaw, Blaine murmured, "When are you coming home to me?"

"I am home," Kurt insisted, skimming his hands over the smooth expanse of heated skin Blaine's unclothed body provided.

"No yer not," Blaine slurred, clearly more asleep than awake. Eyes falling closed once more, he continued, "Not coming back for another week or more. 'S wut yer father said. 'S okay, tho. Jus' wanna do this for real."

Chuckling, Kurt propped himself up on an elbow so he could gaze down at his very sleepy lover. "Blaine, I _am_ home. I'm in your bed. Not going anywhere."

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck, pulling him down so he could bury his face in Kurt's shoulder. "_Lying_ to me. Happens every night. You're here, then you're not when I wake up in the morning. Tired of being teased. Want you back home."

Slotting their legs together, Kurt rolled to his back, pulling Blaine with him so the shorter man rested half on his body. "_Every_ night, hmm? What exactly do we do, every night?"

Taking two deep breaths, Blaine disappeared under the blankets as he slid down Kurt's body. "_Sexy things_," he murmured from under the covers. Resting his head on Kurt's thigh, Blaine brushed his fingertips over Kurt's hardness. "Why're wearing clothes, Kurt? You never wear clothes."

It took some time for Kurt to yank his sleep shirt over his head as Blaine tugged his undergarments down his long legs, but eventually he shed his clothes. Pulling the blanket over his head, Kurt gazed down at Blaine who seemed enraptured by the site of Kurt's swollen manhood. With little hesitation, Blaine reached out and gripped Kurt firmly, sliding his tongue across the mushroom head.

"Oh, **_fuck_**. _Blaine_!" Kurt gasped, wrapping his fingers in Blaine's curls as his lover took him further into his heated mouth, bobbing up and down in a deliciously slow, deliberate pattern. What Blaine lacked in experience, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. "_Shit_, love, if you don't stop, I'm gonna spill between those beautiful lips of yours," warned Kurt.

Kurt's words had no impact on Blaine's actions as he continued to lick and suck Kurt's swollen cock. When Blaine's fingers slipped between Kurt's ass cheeks to lightly press against his pucker, Kurt lost it. He pulled on Blaine's curls as his release raced through him. Blaine continued his ministrations as Kurt recovered from his intense orgasm.

"Mmm," hummed Blaine, resting his head on Kurt's lower belly. "That was nice." Wriggling up to join Kurt on the pillows, Blaine encouraged Kurt to turn onto his side, allowing Blaine to fit himself against Kurt's back. Wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist, Blaine murmured, "When you come home, I'm gonna love every inch of you."

"_Blaine_," Kurt growled, "I _am_ home." Blaine's heat moved away from him for a moment, and Kurt could hear a drawer next to the bed opening and closing before he moved back.

"Don't believe you. It's just a dream. Gonna wake up alone, again. But as long as yer here, gonna enjoy my dream." Blaine began to nibble on the back of Kurt's neck and shoulders, while slipping his hand under Kurt's knee, pulling at it until Kurt understood what he wanted.

Shaking his head, Kurt decided it was best to play along with Blaine's sleepiness. "What exactly are you going to enjoy, Lord Blaine?"

Sliding just the tip of his finger into Kurt, Blaine thrust it in and out slowly. "This," he whispered. "Wanna be inside you."

"I'd like that," Kurt said with a groan, feeling his cock begin to swell again at the thought.

Wet with additional oil, Blaine slipped another finger into Kurt, preparing him gently. "Knew this was a dream," Blaine mumbled. "You'd never let me fuck you."

As Blaine twisted his fingers, he brushed against Kurt's prostate, bringing out a high pitched wail from the prince. "_Fuck_, Blaine. I have no problem with you fucking me, me fucking you. Fuck, right there. Oh, God. More, Blaine. Please, love."

Reaching over to his container of oil, Blaine slicked his hand once again before sliding his cock through his fist. Holding the base of his erection with his hand, he positioned himself at Kurt's entrance before pressing firmly until Kurt's body yielded to him. "Is this what you need, Your Highness?" he breathed.

As absolutely exhausted as he was, Kurt didn't have the energy to do much more than allow Blaine to do as he wished and enjoy every blessed moment of the attention. Every time Blaine brushed against his prostate, Kurt's keening wail along with his quiet pleas for more filled the quiet room.

As Blaine built the heat between them, it became almost unbearable to stay under the cover of the blankets. Whipping his arm down, Kurt tossed them towards the end of the bed, gasping at the welcome chill passing over his flesh. And still Blaine seemed intent on taking his time. "_**Fuck**_, _Blaine_," cried Kurt, "please. I need more. Harder."

"Mmm," hummed Blaine, "don't wanna. 'S soon as I come, you'll disappear until tomorrow night. You feel too good. Gonna take my time."

Kurt groaned in frustration. "Blaine, love, I'm here to stay. This isn't another dream. Please. You're driving me to madness." A moment later Kurt found himself on his stomach, Blaine's body pressed against every inch of his skin. Lacing their fingers together, Blaine held tight to Kurt as he ground his hips in languid circles.

"Miss you so much," Blaine whispered. "When you come back to me, I want to do this every night and every morning. Only with you, Kurt. Gonna ask you to promise me."

"I promise," Kurt sobbed as Blaine ground against his prostate, almost hard enough but not quite. "I promise. Whatever you wish. Just let me come, Blaine. Please."

Stilling for a moment, Blaine seemed intent on catch his breath. "Alright. I miss you, Kurt. I'll see you when you return."

With those words spoken, Blaine snapped his hips hard into Kurt who felt his release build and explode within seconds. And still Blaine's cock rocked into Kurt's ass as Blaine chased his own release. Writhing beneath Blaine, Kurt cried out again and again as waves of pleasure overwhelmed him. Finally Blaine stilled and released a loud grunt, followed by a liquid heat filling Kurt from the inside.

Kurt cringed just slightly as Blaine withdrew and flopped over next to Kurt, an arm tossed over his eyes. Moving closer, Kurt placed his head on Blaine's chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of Blaine's heart. Sliding his arm across Blaine's waist, Kurt sighed as his lover dropped an arm across his shoulders, fingers playing with his sweat dampened hair.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For waiting."

"Tired of waiting, Kurt. Hurry home."

"I am home."

"Night, Kurt. Love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

_End Note: For the record, it was **not** a dream. Blaine's just really sleepy, and really used to waking up by himself - so he can't bring himself to believe Kurt's actually there - especially since he isn't expecting Kurt home quite yet. Wanted to make sure we're all on the same page in the same book. Happy almost weekend. k8_


	22. Whatever You Want

A/N: Greetings from very sunny Southern California. Summer travel continues. As does our story. Enjoy!

* * *

Pulled from his dreams by a sharp rapping on the door, Blaine blinked slowly, trying to clear his mind. Pushing up onto his elbows, he flopped over onto his back and sat up, the sheet just covering his lower half. He glanced over, hopeful, only to find the side of the bed Kurt should be occupying – empty.

Just like every other morning.

It was another fucking dream.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself before calling out loudly for whoever was banging on the door to enter. Scrubbing his hands through his curls, Blaine made sure the mess he'd made in the bed was covered, saving everyone the embarrassment of _that_ discovery – the one where Blaine had turned back into an undisciplined lad unable to go the night without soiling his sheets.

One of the young pages who often worked in the office of the High Clerk crept inside his bed chamber, scurried towards Blaine's torn apart bed and bowed, keeping his eyes averted.

"Lord Anderson? Lady Lopez demands you join her in the King's library immediately."

"The King's library?" Blaine confirmed, sliding towards the side of the bed while wrapping the sheet around his waist.

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, Maxwell. Would you tell her I am on my way and will join her shortly?"

"Yes, sir." Maxwell jogged out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind him as he went.

Crossing into his closet, Blaine used the bowl of water placed on the table in front of the mirror to wet his curls in order to get them to behave in a slightly more appropriate manner before scrubbing off the night's mess that had crusted over on his lower body.

Moving to his small armoire, Blaine pulled on clothing appropriate to an early morning meeting with the King and toed on his most comfortable pair of boots. Deeming himself ready, he exited the room and hurried through the hallways until he reached his destination.

Raising his hand to knock, he was startled when the door opened without warning. Kurt gestured for him to enter the room.

Kurt.

Kurt –_ in the castle_.

Shaking his head to clear it, Blaine stepped forward, whispering, "You're here," as he passed Kurt.

Closing the door, Kurt stepped closer than necessary to Blaine, placing his hand on the small of Blaine's back as Blaine took in the assembled persons. "Of course I'm here. Please tell me you didn't think you actually dreamed everything that happened between us last night. Every time I shift position on my chair I'll be thinking of you."

Flushing a deep scarlet, Blaine glanced behind him at Kurt, looking unsure. "When I woke up alone-"

"**Anderson**!" snapped Lady Lopez, drawing the room's attention to her. "_The King_ has requested our presence. You may catch up with Prince Kurt on your own time."

Swallowing hard, Blaine hurried to take a seat at the long wooden table, nodding in greeting towards the others in attendance. Both the King and Queen-Consort sat at one end, while Lady Berry, both her fathers and Prince Finn sat at the other. Special Emissary Porter and High Clerk Lopez sat on the far side of the table, leaving the last two seats for Prince Kurt and Blaine.

Putting Blaine between himself and Queen-Consort Carole, Prince Kurt held the chair out for Blaine, causing him to flush once again. Winking, Kurt sat gingerly and passed a piece of parchment and quill over to Blaine without a word.

Clearing his throat, King Burt ran a hand over his head, a sure sign of his nervousness. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. We're here today to plan the immediate wedding of Lady Rachel Berry to Prince Finn."

Although not totally unexpected, Blaine fumbled the quill in his hand at the news. Kurt's warm hand on his knee helped to steady some of his nerves. Only a few months before, in the waning months of summer, Lady Rachel had been engaged in planning her wedding to Blaine. Here it was, not quite mid-winter, and she was again planning a wedding – this time to a prince.

Who was Blaine to judge, really? He'd fallen in love with his own prince in the same period of time.

Blaine came to the realization fairly quickly that his primary responsibility at this meeting was to take notes. Copious notes. A royal wedding took months of planning traditionally. There was going to be nothing traditional about this ceremony.

"I think getting married at the stroke of midnight between the new year and the old is romantic, don't you, Finn?"

"I think five tiers for our wedding cake, one for each month we've known each other is romantic, don't you, Finn?"

"I think having ten maids of honor isn't excessive, do you, Finn? Not for a royal wedding, anyhow."

"I think having the royal bakers make each guest their own small replica of our wedding cake as a take-away present would be a lovely touch, don't you, Finn?"

"I think the flowers –"

On and on Lady Rachel made her wishes known to all while the all tried to establish a plan of action of making as many of those wishes possible within the ten day time frame. Blaine had no idea what had precipitated this rush to the altar – and frankly, didn't care. With every stroke of his quill, his list of things to arrange, people to meet with, seating charts to plan grew ever longer.

Engaged in a quiet conversation with the Queen-Consort regarding the members of the peerage needing an invitation to the smallish wedding ceremony, Blaine missed Lady Rachel's flight from the room pursued closely by Prince Finn and her fathers. It was the slamming of the door, resulting in his quill skidding across the parchment, which drew his attention.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lady Santana began muttering in her native tongue. Looking up, she frowned at King Burt. "Your Majesty, we work miracles for you, but we're not miracle workers. This is nigh impossible," she commented honestly.

King Burt sighed and placed his hand on Queen Carole's, squeezing gently. "I'm not unaware of the magnitude of the task we are asking of the castle's staff, Santana. I understand the burden I am placing on your shoulders and those of Alistair. All I can say is that I have the utmost faith in your abilities to make this happen for Finn and for Rachel. Do your best. That's all I can ask for."

Standing, King Burt offered his arm to Queen Carole before making to leave the room. As the queen moved to discuss something with Lady Lopez, King Burt placed a hand on both Blaine's shoulder and that of Prince Kurt. Leaning down, he whispered conspiratorially, "I will grant the two of you whatever you wish if you promise not to pull this kind of horseshit when you decide to marry."

Snickering into his fist, Kurt looked at Blaine and then his father. "I do think that's rather impossible, Father."

"Whatever you wish," Burt reiterated, staring into the eyes of both men. "A private island. A particular title. A university built in your name. Whatever. You. Wish."

As confused as ever, Blaine fumbled for the correct thing to say to his king. "Thank. Thank you, Your Majesty?"

"No, Blaine. Thank you."

As the king and queen left the room, Blaine intended to ask Kurt why his father was acting the way he was, but Santana kept him from it.

"Blaine! You and I will need to sit down to further flesh out these plans. Alistair, will you be joining us?" Santana gathered up the parchment papers she'd written on and strode to the doorway.

Alistair rose, reaching for the cup of tea he'd been drinking and swallowing down the last drops. "I'll be there shortly, Lady Santana. I need to stop by my office to outline the situation to my secretary. He'll be able to send the pages to the various merchants we'll need to meet with today. Perhaps your assistant could create a schedule for him to use?"

Santana pointed at Blaine who still sat next to Kurt. "If you're more than five minutes, I promise you you'll be the first point of contact for each and every question, comment, demand, or criticism that Lady Berry has regarding this hasty adventure." With that she spun around and flounced out of the room.

Kurt reached over to tuck Blaine's hair behind his ear.

"I have to go," Blaine explained, loathe to leave Kurt's presence. "I'm … I'm happy to see you back safe, Your … Kurt."

Leaning forward, Kurt captured Blaine's lips in a gentle kiss. "If I kiss you in the manner I most desire, you'll be late for your meeting with Santana," Kurt murmured, dutifully keeping his hands in his own lap. "When you're free from your duties, please come find me. I'd like the opportunity to greet you properly."

Feeling bashful, Blaine dropped his gaze. "I'll … I'll do my best."

Alistair knocked hard on the door frame as he interrupted. "Best come with me, Anderson. She wasn't making idle threats."

As Blaine leapt from his chair, Kurt stayed him with a hand around his wrist. Brushing his lips across Blaine's ear, Kurt murmured seductively, "Your best was amazing last night, love. I can't wait to return the favor. Go plan my brother's wedding. I'll be waiting."


	23. I Hope You're A Quick Study

It had been six, no, seven days since the meeting in the King's library and Blaine was sure if he were to count the number of hours of sleep he'd gotten since that morning so long ago, he wouldn't need all ten fingers on his hands. There were literally hundreds of thing to do. Invitations to write and deliver to the king's vassals. Wedding announcements and letters of explanation addressed to foreign royalty and dignitaries to send out forthwith. A seating chart for the church. A seating chart for the reception. All of which had become Blaine's responsibility.

Not that he'd voice a complaint.

Santana had bravely taken on the tasks revolving around the actual wedding and reception. Dealing with the cooks and bakers. Seamstresses and tailors. The flower and fishmongers. Since she had experience with her own wedding, Santana had handed over control of any and all outside tasks to Alistair and Blaine.

Then she'd called for reinforcements.

Blaine had only had glimpses inside Lady Santana's office since he'd left the first day, but he was certain her mother and grandmother, along with Lady Brittany and Countess Pierce, and several other women were busily taking care of all the details that Lady Rachel was sure to notice if missing, but wouldn't really remember being there after the reception.

In making sure Blaine stayed fed, Marley was the kitchen maid who shared bits of gossip with him as she dropped off and picked up his tray of food and drink three times a day.

Marley told of Lady Rachel's fit over the color of the dresses the maids of honor were to wear not being the correct 'pink'. "Pink like the morning sunrise in April," she shrieked. "Not pink like a screaming babe."

Or the fit Lady Rachel had thrown over the order of the wedding cake tiers. "The strawberry filling should be larger than the lemon filling," she complained. "We met in August, when strawberries were plentiful. Besides, lemon filling makes people pucker. I don't want a room full of puckering people at my reception."

Or the worst, in the opinion of the castle staff, the day Queen Carole offered Lady Rachel the use of the diamond and emerald tiara she'd worn on her wedding day to Finn's father. "Queen Carole, it's a beautiful tiara, truly. But weren't you marrying an Earl? I'm to marry a prince. I would think the tiara a bit … plain for a woman who is marrying the man second in line to the throne of the kingdom."

Marley had closed her eyes and shook her head before glancing at Blaine. Pouring his tea, she clasped her hands in front of her and pressed her lips together. "She's a wretched, horrible person, Lord Blaine."

Blowing on the tea, Blaine looked up at Marley and gave her a small smile. "It's just Blaine, Marley. I've told you repeatedly, when I came to live here my father stripped me of my title. You do a spot on impression of Lady Rachel, to be sure."

"You dodged a sword blow when your Writ was cancelled to that one. And I would say that even if you weren't involved with Prince Kurt."

"Marley!" Blaine said in surprise.

Shrugging, Marley made her way to the door. "I'll leave you to your planning, Lord Blaine. Ring us when you're done, or if you need a fresh pot of tea."

"Thank you, Marley," Blaine called after the slender kitchen maid. After the first two days, and nights, the kitchen staff had learned to send in only things that could be eaten with one hand – preferably without a fork or knife or spoon. It was the only way to get anyone from the Clerk's office or the Emissary's staff to eat somewhat regularly.

Scooping up a handful of nuts, Blaine munched on them as he began to copy the letter of explanation being sent out to the foreign courts in an attempt to explain that the love between Prince Finn and Lady Rachel just wouldn't allow for a longer engagement – thus the two had planned an intimate winter wedding with a larger summer celebration, which would allow everyone to gather in leisure rather than haste, to follow.

Alistair had penned the actual wording of the letter – and done a masterful job. Blaine had spent the late evening hours over the past four nights, copying six letters each night to be sent out by rider in the morning. He had but two more to complete. It gave him something mindless to do when he had little mind with which to work.

When he finished the last letter, Blaine stood slowly, hearing the popping sounds as he stretched out his back. Since he only had the seating charts to complete, and he was going to pull the chart of the mid-winter celebration as a draft for the wedding reception, Blaine felt comfortable stretching out on the leather couch in his office to catch an hour's sleep. He'd long ago toed off his boots, therefore, he unbuttoned his top shirt, draping it over a chair and loosened the lacing on his breeches before settling down on the couch.

Reaching above his head, Blaine found the throw blanket he'd brought down from his room and wrapped it around his shoulders. In seconds, sleep claimed him.

* * *

Kurt sat across from his brother and Lady Rachel, barely tasting the delicious stew as he worked to ignore the non-stop monologue coming from her lips. When she started to complain about the number of guests they were anticipating, Kurt reached the end of his tolerance. "Isn't it tradition for the bride to not see the groom before the wedding? I thought it was considered bad luck."

Rachel met Kurt's gaze, smiling warmly. "Oh, no, Kurt. That's just on the day of the wedding. Besides, Finn and I thought it best I stay in the castle, because of the winter storms. It wouldn't do for me to miss my own wedding because the carriage couldn't travel the roads."

"No," drawled Kurt, "that wouldn't do at all."

Placing his cup of wine down, King Burt looked over at his son. "Is there a reason you haven't invited Blaine to dine with us since you've returned home, Kurt? You know we'd welcome his presence at the table."

Kurt met his father's eyes and slowly raised an eyebrow. "I would love to. Unfortunately, I haven't seen Blaine in a week."

Cocking her head to the side, Rachel interjected, "That sounds horrible, Kurt. I hated every moment being apart from Finn. Is he avoiding you? I could speak to him on your behalf, if you'd like."

Bristling, Kurt dug his fingernails into his palms to focus his attention anywhere other than his brother's oblivious fiancée. "No thank you, Rachel. That won't be necessary. I'm sure Blaine's time will free up just as soon as all this wedding business is completed." Folding his napkin, Kurt prepared to leave the dining table.

"Well, it's not every day that a prince gets married," Rachel replied. "I'm sure this presents a nice change of pace for everyone. I mean, how many times will they have this opportunity?"

"Thank God, only this once," Kurt muttered as he stood.

Finn glared at his brother, demanding, "What do you mean by that?"

Sighing loudly, Kurt looked pointedly at Finn and Rachel. "Do either of you have **_ANY_** idea what this household staff and the entire surrounding village has done in order to produce your marriage under this time frame? No one has slept in a week. No one has had a moment to themselves. Every single person is focused on producing the perfect day for you – and both of you seem to be walking around oblivious to this fact."

"I don't think that's true," Rachel sputtered.

"I don't care what you think, Rachel," Kurt shot back. "You seem to believe this castle has nothing better to do than plan a wedding for a prince in less than two weeks because the two of you weren't careful enough. Now we **all** get to deal with the consequences of your actions. These people have lives, Rachel. Lives they've completely dropped so you can have your dream wedding to your prince before things become too obvious to cover up. Why don't you act the part of the princess you hope to become and start by putting the needs of the other members of this castle before yourself. Stop complaining about how things aren't quite perfect enough and start saying thank you."

Spinning on his heel, Kurt stomped out of the family's private quarters, leaving his father and step-mother, Finn and Rachel staring in shock at his retreating figure.

Picking up his goblet of wine, King Burt studied the intricate design etched into the side considering his words carefully. "You may not have appreciated his tone, but your brother's words had a lot of truth to them. The members of this castle have moved heaven and earth for the two of you – it would be nice to hear words of thanks come from both your mouths on a much more frequent basis. You'll find, Lady Rachel, that being a princess involves much more than expecting others to jump to your beck and call. You and Finn will be raising a future prince or princess in a matter of months. Frankly, I hope you're a quick study."

Rising from his chair, King Burt offered his hand to his wife of over a decade. "Marley? Dinner was quite scrumptious tonight," he said softly, speaking to the serving girl in the corner in the room. "Please tell your mother I especially liked the dumplings in the stew. Perhaps if there are leftovers, I could have that when I break my fast in the morning."

Curtsying, Marley grinned at the king. "Yes, Your Majesty. She'll be over the moon to know you enjoyed it so much."

Once the king and queen had left, Marley was treated to yet another one of Lady Rachel's tearful tirades furious that Prince Finn had failed to come to her defense as he should have. Used to being ignored, Marley went about the task of clearing the table of the evening's dishes.

She wondered who, outside of the royal family, knew of the true reason behind the expediency of the royal wedding.


	24. Duties & Responsibilities

"For the love of all that is holy, **ANDERSON**! What the **_hells_** are you doing?" shouted Lady Santana. "We'd **_all_** like to catch a full night's sleep, but there isn't time." Bending over the back of the couch, she smacked Blaine hard on the head. "**WAKE UP**!"

"_Dammit_. I **_am_** awake," grumbled Blaine, rolling into a sitting position. It was clear from the glowing embers in the fireplace that Blaine's short nap had extended itself into several hours of solid sleep. "Sorry, Lady Santana. What time is it?"

"The night watch rang two bells a while ago. And it's lovely you thought you could nap while there's work to be done. Being the private plaything of Prince Kurt may provide you with certain benefits and favors around the castle but if you intend to keep your job within the Clerk's office, you need to know I won't tolerate _any_ of my staff slacking off." Santana strode across the room to Blaine's desk and began sorting through the stacks of parchment.

"I don't think that's fair, Lady Lopez. I have and continue to complete my assigned duties to the best of my ability and to the fullest extent possible," Blaine argued, standing up on shaky legs.

She peered at him over the parchment she was currently holding, cocking an eyebrow in what was clearly disagreement. "Finding you asleep on the couch when we still have seating assignments to create would suggest otherwise, Mr. Anderson. Where are the church and reception charts?"

Blaine moved to stand before Santana, pulling out the mid-winter seating assignments and holding it out for her. "I thought, for the sake of expediency, we could reuse this one for the reception."

Santana glanced at the chart, immediately shaking her head. "No, no, no. That won't work at all. Once the guests figure out what you've done, the gossip will revolve around how we couldn't be bothered to create a new arrangement. And they _will_ figure it out. I'll be back in an hour. I expect to see drafts of both seating arrangements from you at that time."

Spinning on her heel, Santana moved to the doorway, glancing over her shoulder to Blaine who'd seated himself back at his desk. "Oh, and Mr. Anderson? Lady Berry insists on inviting **all** the local peerage to her wedding nuptials. **_All_**."

"Understood." As the door closed, Blaine groaned, realizing that once again he'd be figuring out where to place the Duke and Duchess Anderson amid all the other guests. Pulling out a blank piece of parchment, he began numbering off the reception tables as his mind scrambled to put together the puzzle that was the seating chart.

* * *

The wooden door to his office slamming against the wall caused Blaine's quill to skid over the draft of the reception seating. Placing his quill down, Blaine looked up to see an angry Prince Finn glaring at him from across the room. "Is there something I can assist you with, Your Highness?" Blaine called out, his voice raspy from lack of sleep.

"You. Just. _You_," stammered Finn, who stalked into the room and slammed his hands down on the desk, causing the ink well to spill across the parchment. "You made my fiancée cry."

Frantically trying to keep the ink from blotting out his last hour's work, Blaine nodded at Finn's words before they had time to register. "I'm sorry, Prince Finn," he finally offered, his confusion evident in the tone of his voice. Tossing the parchment in the waste bin when he realized it was a near total loss, Blaine explained, "I haven't seen Lady Rachel since the planning meeting a week ago. I'm not sure how **_I_** am to be held responsible for her tears."

Lowering himself so he could look Blaine in the eye, Finn snarled. "You and my brother … complaining about not having enough time together. Kurt raised his voice at her and told her that she was treating others with ingratitude. She's in no condition to have such abuse heaped on her."

Pressing his lips together tightly, Blaine chose his words carefully. "Again, Prince Finn, I'm not sure how **_I'm_** to be held responsible for someone else's actions. I haven't complained to anyone about not seeing your brother. Having not seen him, I _certainly_ didn't conspire with him to complain about anything. As far as the other thing, well, I have no direct knowledge of that either."

Fists clenching, Finn stood, towering of Blaine. "But you have indirect knowledge. You interact with the staff. You know what they're saying."

Scrubbing his face, Blaine felt just a small heartbeat of sympathy for the prince, before his frustration began to smother it. "Prince Finn, with all due respect, I don't care what the staff may or may not be saying about your fiancée. I was ordered by Lady Lopez to create a seating chart for the church and another for the reception. Your explosive entrance to my office completely ruined over an hour's work for me. Do everyone in this castle a favor, Your Highness and stop trying to find someone else to blame for Lady Berry's tears. We're all to the point of breaking for trying to make this situation perfect for you both."

Taking a shaky breath, Blaine drew another blank piece of parchment and a full ink well out of his desk. "Now if you will excuse me, _Your Highness_, I must now try to recreate what I'd nearly finished before you interrupted."

Fingers twitching with barely contained anger, Blaine tuned out Prince Finn's words as the man exited and concentrated on redrafting the seating chart for the reception one more time.

* * *

"Marley, please just place the breakfast tray on the window seat and bring me the pot of hot tea. There's no time to chat this morning." Blaine hadn't bothered to look up from the chart detailing where the guests would be seated within the village cathedral. Santana had returned two hours ago and literally ripped his reception chart in half, forcing him to redo it a third, or maybe it was fourth, time.

He'd rung for his breakfast tray earlier, believing that some food and hot tea might help his concentration. Eyes bouncing from one side of the paper to the other, Blaine thought he might actually have the puzzle completed. With a scratch of his pen, he filled in the last name on his list and let out a long sigh. A large mug of hot tea appeared in front of him.

"Thank you," he managed to push out past his dry throat as he wrapped his fingers around the warm ceramic, letting the heat seep into overtaxed hands.

"You look like hell reborn and sound about the same too."

Blaine's head snapped up at Kurt's words. He immediately regretted the move as a shooting pain traveled down his neck and into his back. "Oh. Hi. Good Morning."

"And a pleasant good day to you too, Mr. Anderson," Kurt purred, moving to sit on the desk in front of Blaine's chair. "I thought, since I had seen neither hide nor hair of you this past week, it was long past time for me to seek you out. I wouldn't want you to forget about me," he teased softly, hoping to gain a small smile from Blaine. Gently he ran a finger down Blaine's scruffy jaw.

Wiping a hand over his cheek, Blaine fought to stifle a yawn. "I haven't forgotten about you, Your Highness. I've been inordinately busy with wedding plans. And redoing wedding plans. And then redoing them again."

At that point, Blaine lost his fight against the yawn. "Have you ever been so exhausted you craved sleep more than anything else?"

Kurt combed his fingers through Blaine's curls before placing the mug of hot tea back in Blaine's hands. "Yes. In battle situations primarily. But yes, I have had times in my life that I've happily taken sleep over food. Even, occasionally, over a sexual encounter as well. How long has it been since you've gotten a night's sleep, Blaine?"

Blaine's eyes fluttered closed. "I think … I think the night before you came back to the castle. I honestly have no idea how long ago that was."

"You need to take care of yourself, Blaine," Kurt cautioned, his tone filled with concern.

"I do. I am," Blaine replied, eyes still pressed shut.

"Blaine, you have circles so dark under your eyes, it looks as if you used a lump of coal underneath them. You aren't taking care of yourself at all," Kurt insisted, placing a finger under Blaine's chin and tipping it up slightly.

"Mm no different than anyone else working in the castle staff, Kurt. I have a job to do and when this wedding is over, then I hope I will be granted some leave to catch up on my rest. I imagine it's no different than when you're off being a knight. Do you foist your responsibilities off on someone else? I don't imagine you do."

Kurt leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Blaine's lips. "You _are_ different. You're _mine_. And it pains me to see you in such a state."

Setting the mug heavily on the desk, Blaine ran his hands through his hair before opening his eyes and meeting Kurt's concerned gaze. "I will not be shirking my duties because of what stands between us, Kurt. They won't be able to say I did less than my share because I'm the Prince's plaything."

"You're not my plaything," hissed Kurt, reeling back as if he'd been slapped. Two bright red circles formed on his cheeks as his anger at Blaine's words grew. "Is that _truly_ what you believe?"

Blaine couldn't control the trembling of his jaw as his lack of sleep and lack of food combined into a swirling vortex of emotion. "I _know_ what** I** believe. Unfortunately, _I'm_ being judged by others who've made it clear that they're looking for any excuse, any instance of my being treated differently because of our relationship. It's like they expect me to use you as a justification for doing a piss-poor job. And I hate it."

Shoving back from his desk, Blaine rose to his feet, intent on grabbing something from the tray Kurt had left by the window. A wave of dizziness overtook him, and he fumbled the mug of tea, spilling in across Kurt's lap and the church seating chart. Stunned at his clumsiness, Blaine stared as the ink began to blur, erasing the past several hours' work.

Kurt watched as tears gathered in Blaine's eyes, and his heart sunk. Just as he took Blaine's hand in his own, the door opened behind them. Glancing over his shoulder, Kurt nodded at Santana and Alistair as they entered.

"The seating charts, Anderson?" Santana snapped as she walked up to the desk. Looking down, her eyes widened then narrowed as she glared at Blaine. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is," she hissed. "Because if it is, I strongly suggest you resign your position and look for work somewhere else. Maybe the stables – since it appears you're so good at making a mess."

Swallowing hard, Blaine nodded numbly. "You're correct, Lady Lopez. I … I quit."


	25. Being Naked Helps How?

"Wait, what?" Santana sounded stunned.

Pulling his hand away from Kurt, Blaine moved around his chair and carefully pushed it under his desk. "You're correct, High Clerk. Yet again, I've made a complete mess of these seating charts. You need someone better equipped to handle the pressure and responsibility of working for the High Clerk. If you'll excuse me."

Sketching out a rough bow towards Kurt, Blaine hurried from the room, ignoring the others' voices calling for him to halt.

Sir Spencer took a step inside the room, pointed to himself, then pointed in the direction Blaine had gone. Seeing nods from both his husband and Prince Kurt, Spencer turned to keep an eye on Blaine.

Crossing his arms, Kurt scowled at Santana. "Is that what you'd intended?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Santana shook her head and dropped into the chair in front of Blaine's desk, her skirts billowing up before settling down around her legs. "No. No it wasn't."

"Right." Kurt studied his friends for several long moments before making a decision he knew would be unpopular but was necessary for everyone's well-being. "Alistair, Santana, we've been friends since childhood. I count both of you among my most trusted advisors. But what I say next, isn't coming from your friend, but from your Prince. I am ordering you and each member of your staffs to cease work on Prince Finn's wedding for the next six hours. Go sleep. Go eat. I am not beyond ordering a member of the Royal Army to personally escort you to bed and stand guard, making sure you stay there."

"Your Highness!"

"Kurt!"

"ENOUGH!" Kurt shouted. "I'm tired of everyone in this castle sniping at each other because they're in desperate need of sleep and a warm meal. It's ridiculous. NOAH!"

Sir Noah hurried inside the small office, snapping to attention. "Yes, Your Highness."

Kurt quickly relayed his expectations, asking Noah to pass his order to the rest of the guard so they could help round up any stragglers and put them to bed. When Noah had left, Kurt placed a hand on Alistair and Santana's shoulders. "Go find your husband and your wife and have them put you to bed. At least until the mid-day meal. Everything else can keep."

Escorting his friends to the doorway, a sudden thought struck Kurt. "Santana, there should be archived copies of the seating charts used for my father's marriage to my mother. If you were to remove the foreign dignitaries, you could insert Lady Berry's guests. If anyone has memory enough to remember where they sat over two decades ago, they should be working for the court," he chuckled.

"What about new peerage?" she asked quietly, intrigued at the idea.

Kurt looked up at the ceiling, as he mentally went through the titled members of the court. "There have only been three new titles created since my father became King. You'll need to double check, but I don't believe there were any between when my father married and when his father died."

"There weren't," Alistair added.

"So there you have it," Kurt concluded, giving his friends an encouraging push down the hallway. "You have your first item to accomplish once you wake up from a well-deserved rest. Pleasant dreams."

* * *

Halfway between the office and his bed chamber, Kurt found Blaine and Sir Spencer huddled in an alcove having a serious whispered conversation. As he came closer he could hear some of their words.

"I … I screwed things up. I quit."

"Blaine," Spencer said sympathetically, "you can't quit."

A burst of laughter came from Blaine, sounding awkward in the morning air. "That's funny, Spencer, 'cause I'm pretty sure that's what I just did."

"No, Blaine. I mean, we all screw up. You're too good at what you do to quit on us now. We all make mistakes. Learning from them makes us stronger and less prone to make them again."

Arms crossed tightly across his stomach, Blaine shook his head fiercely. "I thought it would be different here, but I don't think it is. My father had no problem telling me all the ways I screwed things up. Lady Lopez wants to fill that role. I can't. I can only do my best, and when that's not enough … it's time to go."

Prince Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine's waist, giving Sir Spencer a half-smile. "You just show your mess a little more than everyone else, love. Trust me, and Spencer can confirm this, Alistair, Santana, Finn, heck … even my father are equally as messy as you feel right now. We just have more practice covering up that mess with anger and harsh words we don't really mean. Lady Lopez doesn't want you to resign."

"Told you you're good at your job," Spencer said, jabbing Blaine in the shoulder with his finger.

Pressed up against Blaine's back, Kurt murmured into his ear, "The only place you're going, Mr. Anderson, is with me." Looking over at Spencer, Kurt gave his friend a wink. "Thank you. I've ordered Alistair to bed. Perhaps you can make sure he gets some sleep."

Still looking a bit troubled at Blaine's words, Spencer nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. I'll see you at the mid-day meal." With that he slowly jogged down the hallway towards his own quarters.

Blaine struggled in Kurt's arms, trying to get away. "Kurt, let me go."

Loosening his grip on Blaine enough so Blaine could turn, Kurt took a firm grip on his arm. "In case you are under the mistaken belief that you are free to go, let me make myself crystal clear. The only place you are going is with me."

With that said, Kurt pulled Blaine behind him until they reached an overlarge portrait of a knight astride a horse in the middle of a battlefield. Looking up and down the hallway, Kurt made sure they were along before reaching up to press a hidden button on the frame of the portrait. It swung away from the wall, revealing an ancient stone staircase. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked, fear creeping into his voice.

"My rooms. Short cut. Let's go."

* * *

Standing at the doorway that led from his sitting room to the hallway, Kurt spoke quietly to the guards standing at his doorway then closed and locked the door. Grasping Blaine's hand, he tugged him until he followed Kurt into the bedroom whereupon he dropped Blaine's hand and crossed his arms over his chest. Considering his options while holding Blaine's gaze, Kurt finally uttered a single word. "Strip."

Blaine blinked in surprise, before sputtering, "What?"

"You heard me. Strip." Kurt left Blaine where he was while he tossed another log onto the fire already burning. He turned when he heard Blaine's footsteps approach.

"Kurt."

Holding his hand to halt Blaine's objections, Kurt explained firmly, "If you will not remove your clothes yourself, I am completely willing and able to remove them from your person myself. Since you've seem either unwilling or unable to care for yourself, Mr. Anderson, I will see to it that you are taken care of."

At Kurt's clipped tone, Blaine threw out his hands in exasperation. "And how exactly does my being naked help with that?"

Kurt moved to stand before Blaine, their noses brushing at the tips. "You need to trust me, trust me to take care of you. You're **_not_** a plaything. You're the man I'm falling in love with." Kurt swallowed hard, brushing his lips against the corner of Blaine's mouth. "And right now, you need someone to take care of you. Let me be that someone."

Blaine whimpered as Kurt kissed him gently before flicking his tongue over Blaine's lips demanding entrance. He could feel Kurt's hands unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it over his shoulders to fall at their feet. When his cool fingers slipped into the waistband of Blaine's breeches, Blaine stepped backwards, breathing heavily. "I can undress myself, Your Highness."

"Then I'll be back in a moment. I expect to find you sitting on the chair in front of the fire." Kurt turned and walked towards his private bathing chamber.

Continuing to undress, Blaine caught a whiff of the pungent aroma that must have been following him for some time. When was the last time he'd taken the time to bathe? He hadn't returned to his room in three, or was it now four, days. Sighing, Blaine carried his clothes over to where the laundress picked up Kurt's soiled clothing and dropped them in the small pile.

Kurt, carrying a large bowl of steaming water, met Blaine at the chair he'd referenced before. Placing the bowl down on the table next to the chair, Kurt shook out a small towel and placed it on the seat of the chair, gesturing for Blaine to go ahead at sit once he'd done so. Wringing out a small washing cloth, Kurt began to gently caress every inch of Blaine's skin.

"I can see a whole horde of dragons have taken up residence around your head. Talk to me, love."

Blaine's head rolled forward as Kurt began kneading at the knots that had taken up seemingly permanent residence in his neck. Groaning in encouragement, Blaine began to paint a picture of his life over the past several days while Kurt offered sympathetic murmurs. Kurt continued to run the soap and washing cloth over his arms and chest and then across the pale skin of his back.

"Your body is beautiful," Kurt murmured at one point as he encouraged Blaine forward on the chair so he could wash Blaine's legs. "So much strength. So trim." Kneeling between Blaine's legs, Kurt slid the cloth along the length of Blaine's thigh, while watching every expression of pleasure and need that crossed Blaine's face.

"Am I taking good care of you, Blaine."

Lips quirking into a half-smile, Blaine chuckled. "Always, Your Highness."

As Kurt's hand reached the juncture his legs, Blaine leaned forward, capturing Kurt's lips with his own.

Before things could become too heated, a thunderous pounding on the outside door had them jerking apart..

"KURT! DAMMIT, KURT! OPEN THE DOOR NOW!"

* * *

_End Note: Leaving on vacation this weekend - the hotel says it has free wireless, so I believe the smutty next part will be up on Tuesday as scheduled. Looking forward to doing nothing ... except writing and reading while listening to the ocean's roar. Take care of yourselves! And thank you all for reading and especially to those of you who've reviewed almost every chapter. You know who you are &amp; I love ya for it. -k8_


	26. An Intimate Breakfast

A/N: Hurray for free wireless.

* * *

Shoving himself up to his feet, Kurt handed Blaine the washing cloth. "I'll be but a moment. If you finish my task for me, we'll be able to move on to other things," he said distractedly. Walking through the doorway, Kurt pushed the bedroom door to close it, thus protecting Blaine's privacy.

The door didn't shut all the way, though, leaving Blaine able to hear the angry words exchanged between Kurt and his brother.

"WHO ARE YOU TO TELL THE CASTLE STAFF TO STOP WORKING ON MY WEDDING?" blustered Finn when the door to Kurt's quarters opened.

"The only person brave enough to stand up to the insanity that has overtaken this court," Kurt shot back softly, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. "And I did not, for the record, tell them to stop working on the wedding. I told them to take a break. You and Rachel are probably the only two people in the castle who've been taking regular meals and sleeping through the night."

"You're exaggerating things," Finn grumbled, trying to push into Kurt's room.

Refusing to move, Kurt shook his head. "No, I'm not. And it's sad you're too blind to see it."

"You need to tell them to go back to work," Finn demanded, clenching his fists.

As he watched, Blaine could see Kurt's jaw clench in anger before he stood up straight and stepped into Finn's space. "No, Finn. I don't. And I won't."

Seeing his brother begin to unravel, Kurt stood his ground, forcing himself to retain a calm, soothing tone, despite his anger at the situation. "Finn, we grew up together. And when your mother and my father married, you became my brother in all but blood. You helped me make my case to my father than I should be allowed to enter into the knighthood You encouraged me to stand up to the squire who bullied me and made my life a living hell – no offense, Dave," Kurt glanced at one of the guards standing on either side of his door.

"None taken, Your Highness," came the gruff reply.

"I am honestly pleased you have found someone you wish to spend your life with, as your friend and as your brother. But you need to hear this – as a Prince of the Kingdom, I cannot allow you, or Lady Rachel, to tear this castle, and the people who live and work here, apart any further. They need a break – and I've granted that, until the midday meal. If you have a problem with that, take it up with my father."

Having said his piece, Kurt stepped back to shut the door on Finn, when he hesitated and opened it back up to look hard at his brother. "Finn? If you ever have another issue with me, I expect you to take it up with me – not Blaine. I wouldn't barge into Lady Rachel's quarters and shout at her because I was angry at you. Did you even apologize for ruining the work he'd been completing?"

"I … I, what?"

Taking a deep breath, Kurt let it out slowly. "Earlier this morning, you barged into Blaine's office, accusing him of upsetting Rachel. When you slammed your hands down on his desk, you knocked over an ink well which spilled across the seating chart, **_for your wedding_**, that he'd been working on for an hour or more."

Finn rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Oh. I didn't notice."

"That's rather been my point, hasn't it? You're so focused on the one tree in front of you, can't see the forest that's burning around you." Kurt shut the door firmly behind him, locking it once more before turning to find Blaine staring at him from the doorway of the bedroom.

"I finished washing," he said, flushing as he noted how Kurt was drinking him in.

"Then it's time to eat something before your nap," Kurt smirked, gliding towards Blaine.

* * *

Still forbidden the use of clothes and now, apparently, the use of a spoon, Blaine found himself sitting on Kurt's lap, being fed spoons full of porridge, topped with a savory assortment of fried bacon, spring onion and cheese.

"I can feed myself," Blaine pouted, wriggling to find a comfortable position.

"You could, if I allowed it," Kurt agreed with a smirk. "I rather enjoy the intimacy of this," he growled, his eyes growing dark with desire. Deliberately he placed the spoon into the bowl of half-eaten porridge, and lowered his hand to Blaine's lap, skimming it over the soft skin high up on Blaine's legs.

Shuddering, Blaine no longer felt like he was being treated like a child – especially when Kurt's fingers wrapped around his semi-erect cock, tugging on it firmly. Humming appreciatively, Blaine tried not to wriggle too much.

"Eat your porridge, Blaine," Kurt whispered, nipping at the skin below Blaine's ear. "Finish your breakfast, and I'll finish this." Sliding his lips and tongue down Blaine's neck, Kurt tasted the freshness left from the recent cleaning.

"_Fuck_," blurted Blaine, nearly dropping the bowl and spoon.

Kurt chuckled softly against Blaine's neck as he dropped wet kisses down towards his shoulder. "Not until after your nap and only if you've behaved. You won't, however, get to fall over the edge until that bowl is empty."

"You're evil," whined Blaine has he tried to remember how to hold a bowl and use a spoon at the same time while Kurt's thumb flicked repeatedly over the head of his cock.

"You love it," purred Kurt, lifting his head enough to give a quick kiss to his lover.

Shoving an impossibly large spoonful into his mouth, Blaine worked to swallow it down as Kurt changed his method of attack, sliding his hand lower to cradle Blaine's balls, tumbling them softly in his hand.

"Mmm," Blaine hummed as he swallowed another bite before he choked. "**Fuck**, Kurt!"

Kurt moved his lips to caress Blaine's ear and pitched his voice low. "Language, Mr. Anderson. Such a deliciously filthy mouth. It could be put to so many other decadent uses other than shouting out such naughty words. Or is that it? Do you want me to believe you're a naughty, filthy creature begging for my touch?"

Blaine wound an arm around Kurt's shoulders while still maintaining his hold on the bowl of breakfast cereal. Desperate for Kurt's touch, and near-madness at his seductive words, Blaine begged, "Please. **_Fuck_**."

"Later. I promise."

Groaning as Kurt loosened his hold on him, Blaine frantically scooped another two mouthfuls of porridge, ecstatically sharing the bottom of the bowl with Kurt. "Done," he moaned, dropping his head on Kurt's shoulder and shutting his eyes tight.

Without warning he was lifted into the air as Kurt carried him the short distance to the bed, laying Blaine down and climbing in next to him. It took just another moment before Kurt's hand, slick with oil, returned to his cock.

"The night of the reception," Kurt said quietly, twisting his hand as he glided it up and down Blaine's turgid flesh, "at an appropriate time, we're going to sneak away so you can have your way with me. We'll find some unoccupied room, and you will demand that I bend over the arm of a couch so you can claim my ass as your own. Or a darkened alcove where I kneel in front of you and swallow you down."

"_Kuuurrt_," moaned Blaine as he thrust up into Kurt's fist wanting this beautiful torture to end.

"I'd love to slip under the table at the reception and take your cock between my lips, pleasuring you as your father looks on – unaware. Unfortunately, you aren't exactly quiet when I'm touching you. And I'd rather not have to explain to my father and Carole why we were doing such intimate things in front of the peerage. Could you imagine Rachel's reaction?"

Despite being close to orgasm, Blaine burst out laughing at the thought of her tantrum at finding her brother-in-law engaging in such depraved actions at her wedding reception. "Oh, God, Kurt. That's … that's."

Overwhelmed with the emotions spinning through him, Blaine grabbed Kurt's arm, pulling him down over his body. Wrapping his legs around Kurt's waist, Blaine ground up into him, causing Kurt to let go of his own groan.

"Need you closer," Blaine whispered, holding Kurt tight in his embrace. "Tell me more. Tell me about your naughtiest fantasies, Kurt."

Whimpering as they found a particularly good rhythm, Kurt nuzzled into Blaine's neck, turning his head enough that Blaine would be able to understand his words.

"One day, in the far future, when I've become King – I'm going to request a private audience with you. And then I'm going to fuck you while sitting on the throne."

"_Ohmygod_!"

"And then later, you're going to fuck your king while he's bent over the arm of the throne."

"Oh, **_FUCK_**!"

"**_Blaine_**!"

By the time they'd caught their breath, Blaine was dozing on Kurt's chest while Kurt ran his hand up and down the smooth skin of Blaine's back.

Twitching awake, Blaine gave Kurt a sleepy smile. "Thank you."

A small smirk crossed Kurt's lips. "Go to sleep, love. I'll always take care of you."

"Love you too."

Wrapping both arms around Blaine, Kurt felt whole, and loved, and sated. And he didn't want it to end.

* * *

End Note: What? No cliff? Not today.


	27. You Can't Start This And Not Finish It

Kurt slept entwined with Blaine for a few hours before his internal clock refused to cooperate any further. So placing a pillow in Blaine's arms as a substitute for his body, he'd climbed out of bed, thrown on some clothing, and went to work dealing with various princely duties needing his attention.

As the mid-day meal approached, Kurt decided it was time to wake Blaine, although if he felt it wouldn't cause an uproar of historic proportions, he'd prefer to just let his lover sleep as long as his body needed.

He found Blaine lying on his stomach, sheet twisted around his hips as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Taking some oil in the palm of his hand, Kurt slid his hands up Blaine's back, gently massaging his warm flesh. When he reached Blaine's shoulders, Kurt bent forward, capturing his earlobe between his lips and suckling until Blaine let out a long groan.

"Time to wake up, sleepy head," Kurt murmured, nuzzling into Blaine's neck.

Blaine shifted so he could roll on to his back, blinking sleepily at Kurt. "You have my permission to wake me up like that anytime. Stretching, he tucked his hands under his head, unintentionally putting his chest on display. Kurt's hands crept across his lower belly, tracing random patterns just above the sheet causing Blaine to writhe as his body roused to Kurt's touch. Kurt refused to drop their gaze, and Blaine could see his eyes flaming with desire.

Wetting his lips with a flick of his tongue, Kurt traced the hills and valleys of Blaine's chest until he reached the peaked nipples. Lips twitching into a smirk, he rubbed his thumbs across the hardened nubs, reveling in how Blaine gasped and squirmed under his ministrations.

"I look forward to finding _every_ secret location on this body that makes you react in such a way," Kurt smoldered.

"_Fuuuck_!" moaned Blaine as he snagged the back of Kurt's neck with his hand, yanking him down for a passionate kiss. Demanding entrance to Kurt's mouth, Blaine thrust his tongue inside the wet heat over and over again.

Slowly Blaine pulled Kurt down on top of him, the very thin sheet and Kurt's clothing all that stood between them. Starting to lick and suck his way down Kurt's neck, Blaine panted, "I need you."

Kurt half-heartedly tried to pull away, explaining, "We're expected at the mid-day meal, Blaine."

"Fuck, no!" Blaine burst. "You can't start this and not finish it."

Kurt started to chuckle at the frustration in Blaine's voice even as he tried to keep his shirt on his body. "I was just trying to wake you," he giggled as he settled between Blaine's legs.

"Even**_ I_** don't believe _that_," King Burt called out from his position leaning against the bedroom doorway.

Flipping himself off of Blaine, Kurt rolled off the bed and frantically tried to straighten his clothing. "Father!" His shock and embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position was apparent as he flushed a particularly bright shade of pink.

King Burt lifted his hand, pointing next to Kurt. Looking down, Kurt smothered a laugh. Blaine had yanked up the sheet, and was currently buried under the bed clothes, shaking.

"Blaine, love, you can come out from there," Kurt said softly.

When he got no response, Kurt pleaded with his eyes for his father to grant him a moment alone with Blaine. "We'll meet you in the sitting room in just a moment," he offered with a shy smile.

"Can I trust you?" King Burt teased. "Once upon a time I _too_ was a young man."

"Father!" groaned an exasperated Kurt. Once his father had closed the bedroom door, he turned back to the bed, having to forcibly tug the sheet from Blaine's hands. Seeing how pale Blaine was, Kurt climbed into the bed next to him, wrapping him in his arms as Blaine continued to shiver.

"It's okay, love."

Blaine shook his head frantically.

"Blaine," Kurt assured patiently, "everything's going to be fine. You were covered. My father didn't see … much. _Hells_, we saw more of Finn and Rachel that night we were in the gardens than he saw between us. In fact, that was probably the night that got all of us into this entire mess in the first place."

"Wh. what?" asked Blaine in confusion. "What mess?"

"Rachel's pregnancy. The timing's about right," Kurt explained, wrapping his fingers around Blaine's icy hands trying to warm them.

"Wait, Rachel's **with child**?" Blaine struggled to sit up, staring at Kurt incredulously.

Pushing up, Kurt sat next to Blaine and nodded in confirmation. "You didn't know?"

"Clearly not," Blaine snapped sarcastically, "and it's not like I've had time to put two and two together and come to that conclusion. I just figured it was Rachel being her demanding self, insisting that everyone drop their work to serve her needs."

"I'm sorry," Kurt apologized. "I. I don't know who I expected to tell you. I just assumed you knew after that meeting we all had. I should have told you myself." Scooting off the bed, Kurt held out a hand to Blaine. "Let's get you dressed so we can see what my father wants."

Swallowing hard, Blaine began trembling again at the thought of seeing King Burt face to face. "I can't Kurt. I can't look him in the face after what he walked in on." Staring at his lap, Blaine's voice hitched. "Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't have me forcibly removed from the kingdom after that display. Or thrown in the dungeon."

Kurt dropped a shirt and pants in Blaine's lap and combed his fingers through Blaine's curls. "We don't have a dungeon. Come on. On with your clothes, and then I'll hold your hand while we go meet with him."

"Kurt-"

"Stop," Kurt interrupted, placing a finger on Blaine's kiss swollen lips. "If we don't hurry, my father will come back in here … and your sense of decorum will require you to stand up and bow – and you'll be naked. Neither you nor my father wants that to happen. Do you need me to help?"

Grumbling with annoyance, Blaine swung his legs over the side of the bed, swiftly pulling the pants up and around his waist. Just as the bedroom door reopened, he yanked the shirt Kurt had brought him down, and tucked it into his waist.

"We're coming out right now, Father." Taking Blaine's hand in his own, Kurt led his reluctant lover to meet with his father.

* * *

End Note: It's short. I know. The next chapter isn't tho'. Hope your weekend is a pleasant one! k8


	28. A Personal Favor

A/N: It's a bonus Saturday chapter just because. See you Tuesday!

* * *

Kurt thanked his stars he'd taken the time to clean up the evidence of their earlier encounter before going in to wake Blaine. His father had moved two more chairs over to the one he'd made Blaine sit in while he bathed him and was gesturing for them to sit down. Kurt made sure to take the one that would have had Blaine turning bright red if he'd sat in it again - which would lead to uncomfortable questions and even more uncomfortable answers.

Once they were all sitting, Kurt still holding Blaine's hand firmly, King Burt gave his son an affectionate smile. "You were right to do what you did – ordering the staff to bed. I feel guilty I didn't see it myself, but I am pleased that you did what was right on behalf of everyone, Kurt. That showed true leadership on your part. I've made sure that Finn and Rachel are aware of my support for your decision."

Running his thumb across the knuckles of Blaine's hand, Kurt murmured his thanks to his father.

Looking over at Blaine, King Burt's lips pulled down in a slight frown when he realized the dark-haired young man refused to meet his eyes. "Blaine? Son, you have no reason to be concerned. I didn't knock. I should have. Anything that I may not have wanted to see was my own damn fault, not yours."

"Yes, Your Majesty," whispered Blaine, still staring at the spot on the rug in front of him.

King Burt decided to take a different approach, sensing it was more than just mortification causing Blaine's mood. "I am troubled to learn that you've left your work with the High Clerk. From every report I've received, you've been an exceptionally hard worker and well-suited for the particularly tedious tasks that Lady Lopez's office often handles." Burt leaned over and placed his hand on Blaine's elbow, squeezing softly. "These past days have been particularly trying on everyone, Blaine. I'd … consider it a personal favor if you would reconsider your resignation."

So shocked at King Burt's words, Blaine didn't think before glancing up to confirm the King's wishes. "Your Majesty?"

"I mean it, Blaine. Please reconsider it. You should speak with Lady Lopez, of course. But the bottom line for me is this: the kingdom cannot give up your talents without a fight. So if there is something other than these crazy wedding plans that is preventing you from staying in your role, please tell us."

Biting his lip, Blaine shook his head. "I didn't really mind the work. Except when things kept spilling on the damn seating charts. But that was my fault. Well, at least the second time it was." Blaine swallowed around the lump in his throat several times as he stared into the glowing embers of the fire. "It's just … the other … I can't live like that. Not anymore. And it's nothing you can prevent, Your Majesty."

Leaning back in his chair, King Burt shot a quick look at Kurt then studied Blaine carefully. Crossing his arms, Burt raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to try me?"

"Sir?" Blaine's confusion was apparent in his automatic reply.

"Spit it out, Anderson," Burt ordered firmly.

Slumping in defeat, Blaine let go of Kurt's hand to clasp his together in his lap. "Other people … they think … they're watching me. They think I'm just _his_ plaything. That because we're together … he's the only reason I have, had, the job in the High Clerk's office. Which is sorta true. Well, in that, if I hadn't met Kurt, I wouldn't have been offered the position. Mind you, I don't think Lady Lopez would have kept me a moment longer than necessary if she felt I wasn't giving 110% effort, but still. They're still judging me based on who they think I'm bedding."

"Do you think those things are true, Blaine? Do you think you've only been given this job because Kurt's chosen to tumble you in his sheets?" King Burt asked quietly.

"No. No I don't. But it's still painful. I've lived enough of my life in pain because of the things other people have said," Blaine sighed.

Scratching behind his ear, King Burt asked, "Is this the first time you've been the subject of court gossip?"

"No. But I think you know that. People thought I'd been with Lord Sebastian after the Masquerade. That wasn't true either." The pain Blaine held inside regarding these events seeped into his answers.

"And what happened as a result of that gossip?"

Blaine leaned forward, staring at the carpet between his bare feet, trying to find the courage to voice those events. "My father … my father flew into a rage. He'd … he'd hit us before when we'd disappointed him in something … but this time, this time his fists didn't stop. The pain didn't stop for a long time. I think I lost consciousness. I remember being curled on the floor of his office and then I remember waking up in my room, the physician speaking quietly to my mother. Not long after I was engaged to Lady Rachel."

King Burt's jaw clenched in anger at Blaine's admission. When he'd asked about the result of the gossip, he'd hoped to remind Blaine that he'd ended up here, living in the castle with Kurt, as a result. He'd had no idea things had ever been so bad at the Anderson Manor for the Duke's youngest son.

Clearing his throat, King Burt pulled the focus back to him. "Blaine, son, what would your father have done if he had walked in on you and Kurt, like I did just now?" he asked quietly, needing the answer in the way one couldn't stop toying with a sore tooth. Only Kurt could hear the anger and revulsion boiling just beneath the surface.

Blaine met the King's eyes and swallowed hard. "He would have waited until we were alone, and then he would have made sure that it never happened again."

"Meaning?" King Burt asked, aware of the tension vibrating off of Blaine.

"He would have killed me. He threatened to do it if I refused to go to the Berry's home to meet Lady Rachel. I made one attempt to explain what really happened at the Masque – but that … wasn't received well by him. So I went along with it. The marriage to Lady Rachel. And now she's marrying Prince Finn and I'm helping to plan their wedding. _Was_ helping. And the pretty birdies of the court get to add that to their list of things to discuss behind their hands in loud whispers, pretending to be shocked," Blaine muttered bitterly.

Kurt slid to his knees in front of Blaine, cupping his face as he stared up at his lover. "Blaine? Do you … do you regret being here?" he asked softly, studying Blaine's face for the truth.

"No!" Blaine said, shaking his head firmly. "I love," he glanced over King Burt before continuing, gazing at Kurt, "I love _you_. I love being here. I … I enjoyed my work. I just don't like being the focus of gossip."

Unconcerned about his father's presence, Kurt rose up to press a soft, claiming kiss against Blaine's lips. Tension was still pouring off Blaine as Kurt ended the kiss. Squeezing Blaine's knees softly, Kurt stood and sat back in his chair. "The gossip is always there, Blaine. It won't always be about you, but it will be there, in the background."

"I know," Blaine sighed. "I may not have grown up in the castle like you, but I was the second son to a rather powerful Duke. I'm aware of how information is brokered among the peerage."

Glancing at his father, Kurt reached to take Blaine's hands in his own. "I want you to consider this though. Are you willing to put up with the whispers in order to be with me?"

Blaine's head shot up. "Of course. Yes. Absolutely. Kurt, I don't … I don't want to give up on us."

"Well, then perhaps you don't have to give up on the High Clerk's office either," King Burt said gruffly, standing up slowly from his chair. "It's up to you, son. If you decide it isn't for you, we'll find something else. But perhaps your resignation was premature – to be blamed on a lack of food and lack of sleep. It's difficult to function under those circumstances regardless of one's job."

Blaine gazed into the bright blue eyes telling him he'd be supported in whatever decision he made. Looking up at the king, Blaine said quietly, "I'll. I'll speak with Lady Lopez."

Placing a hand on his son's shoulder, King Burt gave it a gentle squeeze and then tussled young Blaine's curls affectionately. "I'm going to prepare for the mid-day meal," Burt said, walking towards the door. "It would behoove the two of you to make an appearance."

Reaching the door, King Burt looked over his shoulder and gave a majestic smirk. "I want the two of you to keep one thing in mind – in another two days' time, this entire insanity will be at an end. Things will go back to normal. And the two of you will never turn this castle on its ear in this same way," he added in his royal commanding tone.

Kurt snickered, rolling his eyes at his father. "Yes, your royal Majesty, Father, sir. I promise not to impregnate Blaine, thus forcing a royal wedding."

"Carole and I thank you for that, my son," the king shot back with his own eye roll.

At the closing of the door, Blaine shook his head at Kurt. "I cannot believe you speak to your king that lightly, let alone your father."

Grinning, Kurt shrugged. "He … understands me."

Tilting his head to the side, Blaine gave Kurt a lengthy, considering look before leaning forward to capture Kurt's lips in a heated kiss. He waited until Kurt's quiet whimpers grew to an audible moan before pulling away slightly. "There is only _one_ way to assure you don't impregnate me," Blaine whispered against Kurt's lips.

"_Really_?" Kurt scoffed, chasing after Blaine's lips. "Do share, as I thought your turning up pregnant was nigh impossible, given the impressive size of your manhood, Lord Blaine."

Sliding off the chair, Blaine straddled Kurt's knees, tugging his shirt up and off of his body. "Yes, well, to be sure, absolutely 100% sure, that I don't end up with child – requires one simple thing, Your Highness."

"And what, pray tell, is that, Your Lordship?" Kurt teased while his fingers crept up underneath the shirt Blaine had borrowed from him.

"I'll be the one doing the fucking," Blaine smoldered, shoving Kurt backwards until he lay on the floor.

"_Fuck me_," groaned Kurt as Blaine's lips attached themselves to his collarbone.

"Exactly."


	29. A Horse And A Rabbit

A/N: Summer is hot. Might I suggest a cold beverage of choice and a fan while reading this next bit? Toodles.

* * *

Kurt let out a loud, keening moan as Blaine ground his hips against Kurt's ass one more time. "Fuck, Blaine," Kurt panted, "we're going to be late, and knowing our luck, my father will send someone to drag us to that damned mid-day meal."

Blaine's chuckle held notes of pure evil in them as he withdrew almost all the way from Kurt's deliciously tight heat. "Then I guess Sir Spencer or Sir Noah will be forced to watch as I continue to fuck you into this mattress, Your Highness," he purred. With a grunt, Blaine let his weight carry him forward, thrusting hard into Kurt once more.

They hadn't quite made it completely on to the mattress. Once they'd made the decision to move from the hard, wooden floor of the sitting room, Blaine had snatched the oil up from the side table where Kurt had left it and followed his lover to his bed whereupon Blaine had half-manhandled Kurt so he was on his stomach, feet hanging off the bed, toes just barely brushing the carpet underneath.

He'd spent just the amount of time necessary to prepare Kurt so it wouldn't be painful, before lining up his weeping cock and thrusting home. Kurt's gasp of pleasure, followed by a deep moan told Blaine everything he needed to know.

"You told me, once, you enjoyed a nice, hard fuck, Your Highness," Blaine taunted in Kurt's ear, laying atop his lover's body. "Is this not living up to your … _expectations_." Nipping at Kurt's earlobe, Blaine circled his hips deliberately, having learned how that sensation seemed to drive Kurt close to madness each time he did so.

"_OhgodohgodohBlaaaine_," Kurt wailed while thrusting back onto Blaine's cock. "**FUCK**. I fucking love it. I love you in my ass. You can have my ass any time you want, for as long as you want, to do with what you want." Kurt panted between Blaine's thrusts. "I just don't want to be interrupted. Again."

Slipping his arms under Kurt's chest, Blaine pulled until he brought Kurt to standing. Kurt whimpered at the new sensations, and Blaine kept one arm around his waist to steady his lover. "Put your hands on my hips," Blaine commanded as he reached around to wrap his fingers around Kurt's swollen cock. "I don't want to disappoint your father by being late – so," he began to jerk his hand down and up Kurt's length, "why don't you close those pretty blue eyes of yours, Your Highness, and imagine what you will. Another man swallowing your cock as I take you? It matters not, as we both clearly know who owns your ass now." Blaine slammed into Kurt one last time as he emptied himself into Kurt.

Only Blaine's arm around him kept Kurt on his feet as waves of pleasure overwhelmed him. He could feel himself clamp down around Blaine, and Blaine's hand milking him through his orgasm until he couldn't stand the sensations any more. Weakly batting at Blaine's hand, Kurt gasped in pleasure-pain when Blaine pulled out of him.

Careful to make sure Kurt didn't lay down where the sheets were now messed, Blaine left the room, returning with a damp towel, cleaning Kurt and them himself. "I know you want to nap," he smirked, sitting down next to Kurt, "but we're needed elsewhere. After lunch we can come back and sleep."

"Or we can come back and I can show you exactly how I feel about your use of the term '_Your Highness_' instead of my name. It seems to me I haven't punished you for that infraction in quite some time," Kurt growled, forcing himself to sit up so he could dress. "I think, deep down, you want my hand turning your ass a beautiful shade of pink."

"Would that be pink like a screaming babe? Or pink like an April sunset?" Blaine was barely able to keep a straight face. "Remember, our goal is to _not_ get me pregnant." Blaine sassed, walking out to the sitting room where he'd left most of his clothing.

"Not biologically possible," Kurt shot back, yanking a shirt down over his head. "And it was pink like a _morning sunrise_ in April, you nitwit. _**And** _I do need to be able to escort people down the aisle at the church. As much as I'd welcome another pounding by you, I don't want to have to explain to members of the peerage why I'm limping."

Blaine grinned cheekily. "But it's acceptable for your escort to not be able to sit at the church and reception because his ass is on fire due to a spanking His Highness has administered? Face the truth, Kurt, you just don't want to explain how your 'plaything' is hung like a horse and as randy as a rabbit?"

"You are much too fond of comparing yourself to animals, love." Kurt laced up his boots and stood to find Blaine dressed and ready to leave. "Regardless of the accuracy of those comparisons." Wincing only slightly as he walked, Kurt moved until he was face to face with Blaine, and lowered his head to kiss him softly. "Let's go see what adventures await us at the mid-day meal, shall we?"

* * *

Although they'd arrived later than expected, Kurt and Blaine weren't the last to be seated at the table. After they helped Lady Santana and Lady Brittney with their chairs, Kurt stood behind Blaine's expectantly until his lover sat. Only then did Kurt gingerly take his place between Blaine and his father. It was apparent from the small smirks they wore, both Special Emissary Alistair and Sir Spencer had caught Kurt's brief hesitation. Only Spencer had the audacity to offer Kurt a saucy wink.

Clearing his throat, King Burt motioned for the serving staff to bring the first course to the table. "I'm sure Lady Berry and Finn have their reasons for not being here at the appointed time," King Burt intoned. "Without a missive, however, I'm sorely pressed to hold the meal for them. Hot food is best served, and eaten, when hot."

Appearing at the side of the king, Marley dropped a quick curtsy before ladling a rich smelling soup into the bowl in front of him. "Your Majesty, the kitchen has sent up a roasted root vegetable soup and fresh bread to begin your meal," she explained softly, serving both the king and the queen-consort before moving on to serve Kurt. "We've sent up some cheese and dried meats to go with the bread, along with fresh churned butter and honey."

A young boy and girl, both wearing clean kitchen aprons, placed the trays of meats and cheeses on the tables. Motioning with her head, Marley dismissed them back to the kitchen. "For the main course, we've made chicken in a creamy herb sauce, served over potatoes. And per the queen's request, we've made a fruit compote for dessert."

Dipping his spoon into his bowl, King Burt inhaled the delicious aroma before savoring his first bite. "There is little better than hot soup to warm a man's bones in the winter months. Your mother seems to understand this especially well, Marley."

Blushing a bit, Marley dropped her head for a moment before peeking up at the king. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will share your compliments with her." Placing the tureen of soup on the sideboard, Marley dropped a curtsy and then returned to the kitchen.

"How stands our kingdom?" King Burt called out to those assembled at the table.

Concentrating on not spilling his soup down the shirt he'd borrowed from Kurt, Blaine listened as the king's advisers each gave a short summary of how things stood from their perspective. He listened with particular interested to the report of Sword Master Bieste, who updated the king on the number of knights still recovering from their wounds and a few who, though recovered, would no longer be able to serve in anything other than an advisory role.

Once again, Blaine gave a brief thanks to those gods who watched over soldiers or princes for giving Kurt back to him both safe and whole.

The door to the king's private dining room swung open with enough force that it bounced loudly off the wall, causing nearly everyone to startle. "Rachel, would you just stop a moment and speak with me," came Finn's plaintive wail from the hallway. The diminutive brunette, tears staining her cheeks, stalked into the room and then halted half-way to her seat.

"Oh. I see. You've started without us." She stood, mouth gaping like a fish on dry land, as tears welled up in her eyes. Swiping a finger under her eye to wipe the moisture away, she drew in a deep breath, standing up as tall as she could. "Well," she sniffed, "I guess this settles it. I'm calling off my wedding to Prince Finn."


	30. Comeuppance

A/N: This is Friday's chapter, early. Tomorrow I'll be on the road the entire day, only to arrive home to switch out my suitcase and leave for the weekend where I'm unsure about my wireless connections. The next chapter will be up next Tuesday. I hope you enjoy - this chapter is the longest yet, because I didn't feel it could be split.

* * *

"Rachel, don't say that," Finn cried as he entered the room out of breath. Moving towards his diminutive fiancée, Finn tried to place his arms on her shoulders, only to have her twist violently away from his touch. "Rach, please," he murmured softly, aware of the various people all looking at them from their places around the table.

Since Rachel and Finn were standing behind him, Blaine kept glancing furtively between the king and Kurt. King Burt's eyes had fluttered shut at Lady Rachel's announcement, and Kurt had propped his head on his hand, while continuing to eat the soup. The queen seemed quite concerned, placing both her hands on the table as if she were going to rise, but waited for something further to stir her forth. From behind, Rachel's voice rose once more.

"No, don't tell me what to do, Finn. All I've had lately is people telling me what I should do or shouldn't do, what I can have and what I can't have … and let me tell you something, Mr. Prince, sir, I've had enough." She jabbed her finger into his chest repeatedly as tears continued to spill down her cheeks.

Kurt reached for his wine goblet, swallowing down its contents. Reaching for the bottle holding more, his hand was stayed briefly when Blaine placed his on top.

"Are you sure that's what you want," Blaine whispered close to Kurt's ear.

"No, it's not. But it's what I can have at the moment. And it might keep me from throwing something," Kurt shot back, picking up the bottle and pouring until the goblet was full.

The king standing drew everyone's immediate attention. "Gentlemen, I loathe to interrupt your meal, but would you kindly excuse us while we deal with this _family_ matter," King Burt asked of his advisors. "Why don't you settle in the map room? I'll have the kitchen staff move the meal there immediately."

King Burt's advisers rose as a unit and left – several still holding their bowls of soup, and two men slipping slices of the fresh bread into their coat pockets.

Blaine was unsure what to do. While the advisers had left the room, Ladies Santana and Brittney, Special Emissary Alistair and Sir Spencer had all remained seated around the table, although only Brittney was still eating, seemingly completely unaffected by Lady Rachel's pronouncement. When he attempted to stand, Kurt's hand on his thigh kept Blaine in his chair.

"You will stay right there," Kurt murmured, taking another sip of the dark red wine.

"Rachel, come sit down at the table." Kurt knew that tone, and glancing up at his father's countenance only confirmed that Lady Rachel had, unknowingly, pushed her king past his breaking point.

"Your Majesty, you -"

The queen rose to stand next to her husband, gesturing to the two empty seats next to her and cut off whatever Rachel was about to say. "**Now**, Rachel. You as well, Finn."

Startled, Rachel snapped her mouth shut and gathered the skirts of her gown, flouncing to the spot next to Queen Carole. She waited pointedly for Finn to pull out her chair before sitting daintily, eyes flicking between the king and queen and Kurt. When Finn took the seat next to hers, she made a show of moving closer to the queen and turned her body away from the man she was to marry in two days' time.

Once the fighting couple had settled, King Burt and Queen Carole resumed their seats.

Taking a long drink from his water goblet, King Burt placed it down on the table and pierced Lady Rachel with his gaze before speaking softly. "Rachel … even the best of us get cold toes before making a commitment of this magnitude. Couple that with the emotional swings that come with … your _particular_ circumstances, and we are _all_ trying to give you the latitude you deserve to make these adjustments."

Folding his hands in front of him, King Burt's features took on an even more serious expression. "But understand this: if you call off this wedding, and every person sitting around this table would rather you call it off than take vows you don't mean, the wedding Will. Be. Called. Off. There will be no second chance. There will be no tearful apologies and lengthy explanations of how life spun out of your control and can't everyone just bend to your will once more. I. Am. Not. Your. Fathers. Regardless of how you manipulate them into getting your way, you will learn here and now that this sort of display," he waved his hand from Rachel to Finn and back, "will not be tolerated. Ever."

They watched as Lady Rachel lost some of her color as the king's words sunk in. Two bright pink balls appeared on her cheeks, blossoming further as the king laid down the rule of the court. When her hands began to tremble, she folded them in her lap and continued to meet the king's gaze.

"And if you call off this wedding, I dare say come spring, you will have much to account for – being an unmarried woman carrying an unnamed man's child," King Burt concluded.

Without conscious thought, Lady Rachel's hand covered her belly protectively. "It wouldn't be an unnamed man," she sputtered. "He or she is your grandchild, Your Majesty. Surely you wouldn't –"

"I would do whatever is necessary to protect this court and this kingdom," the king said solemnly. "If that meant discrediting a young woman who's been engaged to two different men in the span of five months, who turned up pregnant while the second of those men was away fighting off invaders to your kingdom … it would be done."

"Burt," Finn interrupted quietly. "Mother."

Shooting to her feet, Lady Rachel shouted, "FINE! Then I'll name Lord Anderson as the father and be done with it all."

Blaine shoved Kurt back in his chair as they both rose to confront Rachel. Infuriated that she would even suggest such a thing, Blaine considered whether he could get his hands around her neck and throttle her before Sir Finn or Sir Spencer came to her defense. If they even would. "The **_fuck_** you will, Rachel," he spat, biting off each word as he spoke. "Do not, for one minute, think you can drag me in to _your_ mess. Either marry Sir Finn or fucking don't. Do not cross me by naming me the father because Finn didn't say yes to every one of your incessant demands."

Slapping her hands down on the wooden table, rattling the glasses and silverware, Rachel leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. "_You_ came to _my_ door to climb out of your own mess, _Blaine_."

"My _father_ came to the door, dragging me behind after he'd beaten me within an inch of my life for being assaulted by Lord Sebastian," Blaine replied, the timbre of his voice raising as unwanted memories swelled inside him.

"That's _not_ how _Sebastian_ paints that evening," smirked Rachel, crossing her arms.

"Because _Lord Smythe_ is the utmost bastion of honesty," answered Sir Spencer sarcastically. When Lady Rachel glared his way, Spencer gave her a mock salute. "You don't know of what you speak, Lady Rachel. Lord Sebastian needs to learn what the word 'no' means. As, it seems, do you." Standing up, Spencer looked at Finn with sympathy. "Best of luck," he said. Marching across the room, Spencer held the door for Alistair before allowing it to shut with force.

"Well, as exciting as this has been," Lady Santana said with a very fake smile, as she moved back from the table, "there are other matters needing my attention. Your Majesty, if you would be kind enough to send word of whether we'll be holding a royal wedding or not, I'd appreciate it. Britt?"

Lady Brittney looked up from her meal, confusion on her face as she noticed Santana's outstretched hand. "Oh, are we going? I wasn't quite done. Besides, I thought Marley said there would be chicken and fruit for dessert."

Leaning over to place a soft kiss on her wife's cheek, Lady Santana placed her hand under Lady Brittney's elbow and guided her up, whispering to her as they too left the room.

Kurt pulled on Blaine's hand to no effect, so he reached up and wrapped his hands around Blaine's arm and tugged until he was forced to resume his seat. Handing Blaine his wine goblet, Kurt ran his hand up and down Blaine's thigh while his lover took slow, measured sips.

"Rachel … I love you," Finn murmured plaintively. "I want to marry you, but you need to stop acting like this. I need to know that you love me, and not the idea of me."

Lower lip trembling, Rachel burst into tears, burying her head on her arms as her shoulders heaved. "I don't know how this all happened," she sobbed.

Blaine's knuckles around the wine goblet turned white as his anger flared again. It was as if she was completely incapable of taking any sort of responsibility for her own actions and cared not for how her actions impacted those around her. "I'd hazard it began with that night in the gazebo, when Finn was _too big_ for certain activities you were pursuing," Blaine muttered harshly.

Kurt dug his fingers into the skin around Blaine's knee trying to prevent his lover's temper from boiling over. "Blaine," he cautioned, motioning with his eyes to his father and the queen.

Shooting Kurt a quelling glance, Blaine shook his head slowly. "She says she doesn't understand how '_this all happened_'. I'm just explaining that if one allows herself to be tumbled by a man in the gardens of the castle, this is one possible result. And let's be totally honest here – you and I both know Lady Rachel wasn't coerced, wasn't badgered, wasn't pressured into anything that night."

Peeking up from her arms, a mortified Lady Rachel whispered, "You were there?"

"_'__Maybe if you were smaller, like Lord Anderson_'," Blaine mimicked.

"Blaine, that's enough," Kurt growled.

"We were there long enough, Rachel," Blaine continued, undeterred. "You're going to be a _mother_. **Maybe** you're going to be a _princess_. Either way, you need to grow up and -."

Whatever words would have followed ceased as the stem of the wine goblet he was holding, shattered under the pressure of Blaine's grip. Hissing in pain, Blaine dropped what remained on the table as blood began to drip from his hand.

Reacting immediately, Kurt stood and grabbed Blaine's water goblet before unceremoniously shoving his lover further back into his chair and holding his injured hand above his shoulders. Pouring the water from the goblet over the injury, Kurt assessed the damage. "I don't think you're going to need this stitched, but we'll need to bandage it immediately."

Taking the clean cloth napkin his father handed him, Kurt offered a half smile while wrapping it tightly around Blaine's hand. "We'll be leaving now. _Obviously_. I hope things work out for the best. If you'll excuse us," he said, sketching out a bow to his parents.

"Clearly that's the last time I give you a goblet of wine in an attempt to calm you down," Kurt grumbled, nudging the door open with his shoulder. Catching sight of Sir Noah, Kurt asked for bandages to be brought to his room forthwith.

"I can hold it myself," Blaine sulked, attempting to tug his hand from Kurt's strong grip. The air was torn from his lungs as Kurt thrust him up against the stone wall of the hallway.

"You don't get to do anything _yourself_ right now," hissed Kurt. "You cursed in front of my father and the queen-consort, you were rude to Lady Rachel and you didn't listen to me when I asked you to stop your tirade." Still holding Blaine's hand up high, Kurt moved closer until their hips were slotted together and he could feel the rapid beat of Blaine's heartbeat against his chest.

"What. what are you going to do about that?" Blaine challenged, seeing the desire in Kurt's eyes and feeling the prince's hardness rubbing against his own.

"I told you earlier that you were due for a punishment," Kurt said, boldly flicking his tongue along the seam of Blaine's mouth. "We're going back to our rooms and I'm going to make good on my promise. You spread across my lap, your bare backside flushing under the discipline of my hand."

"And that's supposed to be punishment?" Blaine taunted.

"Just you wait."

* * *

_**End Note:**_ _I've enjoyed writing Bridezilla Rachel, channeling much of what I remember season 1 &amp; 2 Rachel to be like. That said, she's also experiencing pregnancy hormones (I watched Finding Nemo for the first time pregnant with my daughter ... I sobbed, SOBBED, after the opening scene where Marlin loses his family except for Nemo. That movie starts with the first day of school as far as I'm concerned, and it's been eleven years, but I digress). Just keep that in mind. I don't totally hate her. We're moving towards some very intimate, sexy times for our guys. I hope you're not too disappointed. Thank you for reading &amp; for your kind words of encouragement. _


	31. Such A Pretty Mouth

Blaine knew better than to complain as Kurt used a magnification glass to check his injured hand more thoroughly for glass shards. The bleeding had mostly subsided with the pressure Kurt had applied while the walked through the hallways to his suite. "Does this hurt at all?" Kurt asked softly has he skimmed his thumb over the cuts.

"No. No more than a cut should," Blaine answered.

Letting out a breath, Kurt put the glass away and worked to wrap Blaine's hand properly. "If it becomes inflamed, if it becomes infected, if it begins to pain you in any way, you will tell me immediately and we will go see the doctor." Placing a soft kiss over the bandages, Kurt stood and took the supplies into the bathing chamber before returning.

"Is _this_ where you tell me to remove my clothing?" Blaine teased from the chair, opening his legs in what he hoped was a clear invitation.

Raising an eyebrow, Kurt crossed his arms and glared at Blaine, albeit without much heat. "I think you'd enjoy that too much," he finally stated.

"I think _you'd_ enjoy that too much," Blaine challenged, cocking his head to the side as his fingers began deftly unlacing the ties at the top of his shirt. Reaching his good hand back, Blaine pulled the fabric from his body, carelessly tossing it to the side in one smooth movement. It amused him to watch Kurt try pointedly to not stare at his sculpted chest, and when Blaine tweaked a nipple into a pointed nub, he noted how Kurt's tongue flicked along his lower lip.

Sitting up, Blaine took on a more serious tone. "Tell me, _Your Highness_, … why does my calling you by your honorific bother you so much?"

Raking his teeth over his lower lip, Kurt went from confident to vulnerable in the blink of an eye. "Because, Blaine, there are only a handful of people in this kingdom who use the name I was given at birth. My father. Queen Carole. Finn, Spencer and Noah – but only if they know we're alone.

Stepping closer, Kurt continued to explain. "_Your Highness_. It's used to create a distance between us. I don't want there to be that distance. Not between us. It is upsetting to me when you stop calling me Kurt and throw _Your Highness_ at me because I've made you feel uncomfortable, or pushed your boundaries further than you prefer. That's when it's most important you use my name."

"Oh," was the only sound that escaped Blaine's slips as comprehension dawned. That made complete sense. Reaching out, Blaine placed his hands on Kurt's hips, pulling the prince closer until he was able to rest his head on Kurt's thigh. Humming contentedly when Kurt buried his fingers through his curls, Blaine ran his hands over the backs of Kurt's legs and the swell of his ass. His lover wore hose better than any other man in the court. "What if I choose to use it to bring us … closer together?" he ventured, nudging his nose into the crease between Kurt's thigh and crotch.

Tightening his hold on Blaine's curls, Kurt tugged his head back slightly so he could look into Blaine's eyes. "What are you suggesting, _Lord Anderson_?" he purred, eyes ablaze with wanton need.

Blaine slid one hand around Kurt's leg while the other meandered over the growing bulge between his legs. "Perhaps, _Your Highness_, I could show you."

"You have such a pretty mouth," Kurt rasped. Cupping Blaine's jaw, Kurt used his thumb to slowly draw down Blaine's chin. "But it gets you into such trouble, _My Lord_. Maybe if it were _otherwise occupied_, it wouldn't be so apt to get you into trouble. Shall we test this supposition?"

Kurt disentangled himself from Blaine and, crooking a finger, led him from the chair to a leather sofa in the corner of his bedroom. Taking Blaine by the shoulders, Kurt turned him so Blaine's thighs were pressed against the arm of the sofa. Hooking a finger on either side of Blaine's hose, Kurt took his time drawing them down until they just rested under the globes of Blaine's ass.

"Such a delectable ass," he murmured, taking his time caressing the warm, smooth flesh. "Don't think you've distracted me from your punishment, Blaine. We can play this little game, but in the end," Kurt smacked Blaine's ass smartly, "it's still going to be pink after this, you understand?"

"Yes, _Your Highness_," whimpered Blaine, rocking his hips against the sofa's arm.

"Excellent." Kurt walked around and sat carefully on the sofa. "Let's put that mouth to better use, shall we?" Undoing the laces on his hose, Kurt allowed his erect cock to spring forth. Pulling Blaine so he was bent over the arm of the sofa, Kurt captured his lips and commenced a heated battle of tongues and teeth – asserting his dominance and control.

Blaine had one arm around Kurt's neck and the other supporting his weight on the cushion next to Kurt's leg. After several long moments of their tongues sliding back and forth, Kurt tugged on Blaine's hair, pulling him away and guiding that fiery mouth where he wanted it most. When Blaine's tongue swiped itself across the head of Kurt's cock, he groaned appreciatively. "V_ery_ good, Lord Anderson."

Focused on the weight and taste and texture of Kurt's cock in his mouth, Blaine forgot his punishment. Suddenly a bright burst of pain seized his left buttock and he cried out around Kurt's cock, his first reaction to stand back up. Kurt's tight hold on his hair held him in place.

Running his hand over the aching flesh, Kurt's voice was like silk. "No, _Lord Anderson_. You have your task. Your punishment finishes when I do."

Shivers went through Blaine. "_Kurt_!" he croaked, knowing that using the prince's name would cut through this fantasy game of theirs.

Loosening his grip on Blaine, Kurt's demeanor completely changed to that of a concerned lover. "Yes, Blaine?"

"What if?" Blaine couldn't complete the thought.

Stroking Blaine's hair and the warm skin of his back, Kurt offered, "If you want to stop, then say so now."

Blaine could feel the cool air on his ass, the sting from the swat, and Kurt's swollen shaft brushing against his lips. He'd never been so on edge before – not even that first night when Kurt had taken his time, introducing Blaine to the pleasures shared between lovers.

Taking a shaky breath, Blaine shook his head as much as Kurt would allow. "I don't want to stop, _Your Highness_," he trembled.

"When I come," Kurt reaffirmed, tracing Blaine's lips with a finger, "it ends. Your pretty lips stretched around the prince's cock, _Lord Anderson_. It's such a sight. And the way you swallow me down, the way your tongue dances against my flesh.

"**_Fuck_**," breathed Blaine a moment before he did just that.

The swats to his ass came in irregular intervals making it impossible for Blaine to anticipate when the next stinging blow would arrive. Although extremely uncomfortable at first, the sensation mellowed into a more pleasant heat after a few moments. The other effect was his deep guttural moans around Kurt's cock each time another blow landed. He could feel Kurt's hand caressing the heated flesh of his ass, and could hear how Kurt's breathing was picking up speed.

Then without warning, Kurt shoved to a stance, taking a position behind Blaine. Gripping an ass cheek in each hand and squeezing hard once, Kurt drew out a burst of air and whimper from Blaine. "You'll apologize to the king and queen for your demeanor today," he hissed, as his hands spread Blaine's tight cheeks to make room for his cock."

Blaine squirmed, concern growing in his lower belly that Kurt meant to take him right there, without any preparation. He tried to stand, but Kurt's firm hand in the center of his back prevented this. "Yes, Your Highness," Blaine croaked.

Kurt began to rock between the flaming globes, making it a point to brush against Blaine's dusky pucker each time, threatening to, but never quite entering his body. "And to Lady Rachel, for speaking out of turn," Kurt continued, as small grunts of pleasure escaped his lips.

Whimpering and close to breaking from the wicked sensations Kurt drew forth from his body, Blaine managed to blurt, "Yes, Your Highness. Please. _Fuck_. **_Kuuurt_**," while trapped between Kurt's hard cock and the arm of the sofa.

With a forceful grunt, Kurt gave himself over to his pleasure, marking Blaine's back repeatedly. When he finished, Kurt stepped back, admiring his work.

Blaine stood shakily as the blood from his head moved back into his body. Glancing down at his still erect cock trapped in his pants, he cleared his throat meaningfully. "Will _Your Highness _be taking care of this, or should I?"

Affecting the pose of a put-out aristocrat, Kurt raised his eyebrow. Snatching Blaine's shirt from the floor, Kurt made a show of swiping at Blaine's back to clean him before, without a word, he sat on the arm of the sofa, and tugged Blaine to stand between his legs, Blaine's back to Kurt's chest. Pulling at Blaine's shoulders, Kurt made him sit down, his flaming ass against the scratchy woolen hose Kurt wore.

Blaine sucked air between his teeth at the sensation.

Clucking in mock sympathy, Kurt whispered in his ear, "I'll take care of you, _Lord Anderson_. Put your hand in your pants and take your cock out for me. I want to see your pretty cock. Oh, look," he said seductively, "it's all leaky and angry. Just the way I like them."

With deliberate intent, Kurt slid his hand down Blaine's torso, to his thigh and finally allowed himself to gently cup Blaine's balls. "You said _you_ were going to bring us closer together, _Lord Anderson_. And you did such a nice job of that, too. But now, it seems to me, you're changing our arrangement. You should be more clear, next time, as to what your needs are."

"This is what I need," Blaine growled, reaching down to take Kurt's hand and placing it around his cock. Guiding Kurt through several strokes, Blaine moaned appreciatively. "Like **_that_**, _Your Highness_."

Kurt began to wriggle his hips under Blaine, making his lover keen at the sensation of wool pulling across his tender skin. Tightening his grip, Kurt bit down on Blaine's earlobe and took great pleasure in watching Blaine fall apart under his hands. "I know what you need, _Blaine_. You don't ever need to doubt that.

After a few quiet moments, Kurt lifted Blaine off of his lap. "Once you've cleaned up your mess, _Lord Anderson_, you may join me in the bath. If it moves you to do so."

"Yes, _Your Highness_," Blaine whimpered.


	32. Oh, That Was About My Pleasure?

Submerged up to his shoulders in the heated waters, Kurt waited for Blaine's eventual appearance while he allowed the warmth to relax his fatigued muscles and joints. He could faintly hear the sounds of Blaine moving in his bedroom, cleaning up their mess and then the weak murmurings of voices – one of which was clearly not Blaine's.

Not long after, the scuffling of Blaine's footsteps could be heard coming closer. Seeing Blaine enter with a tray while one side of his loosely knotted robe kept slipping down his shoulder, Kurt rose from the waters and hurried to help.

"Marley brought us something to eat," Blaine commented, setting the tray by the side of the pool. As he rose, Kurt's fingers undid the knot of his belt, slowly drawing the robe away from his body and moving to hang in on the wall.

As he lifted the robe to the hook, Kurt noted the bulge of one pocket. Sliding his hand inside, he found the cloth package of wooden dildos he'd presented Blaine with several months before. Glancing at his lover, he found Blaine's cheeks flushing.

Swallowing at the sudden tightness in his throat, Blaine explained shyly, "I was thinking … before … about how it felt when you used those on me. The first time. I thought maybe-" Regretting his forwardness, Blaine turned and walked to the stairs of the pool, hurrying down and sinking into the water until in completely covered him.

Setting the package down next to the tray, Kurt stepped off the edge of the pool, dropping down next to where Blaine was currently attempting to hold his breath forever. Waiting for the inevitable, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine as soon as he stood up to take another breath.

"Shhh," Kurt placed his finger against Blaine's mouth before replacing it with his lips, sucking gently on Blaine's lower lip. Gliding his lips up Blaine's jaw, he asked, "Do you want me to fill you with these toys again, Blaine? Maybe while your cock is buried deep inside me. You don't need to share whose cock you're imagining hammering home. Even lovers need to have small secrets sometimes."

Blaine swiped a hand through his hair, wiping away the extra water before nuzzling into the crook of Kurt's neck. "I often wish I had your confidence … Kurt."

Kurt chuckled as he moved his hands over Blaine's slick skin. "Have you met yourself, love?" he asked with amusement. "You are the same man who less than two hours ago, threw me down on the bed and fucked me with this incredible cock," he said, moving his hand to offer that same cock a firm squeeze. "The words that filled the air from your delightful mouth were anything but lacking confidence."

"I suppose," Blaine answered, his tone still unsure. "Sometimes you just … provoke me. And it's … primal. My response. And other times, I feel so unsure. Like the day when we first met."

"I love each side of you," Kurt murmured, gently tugging Blaine to sit with him near the tray of food. "The quiet and shy side, the animalistic side, the side that stood up to Lady Rachel, the side that knew he wasn't being treated in the manner he wanted to be treated by Lady Santana."

Blaine scooped up a bite of the chicken in sauce, popping it in his mouth before offering the next mouthful to Kurt, who used his tongue to clean every bit of sauce from Blaine's fingers. "I thought you punished me for standing up to Rachel," he asked, tilting his wrist so that Kurt would clean that dribble as well.

Dropping a soft kiss on Blaine's mouth, Kurt lunged for the plate of chicken and potatoes, bringing it into the pool with them. Placing a warm chunk of potato on Blaine's tongue, Kurt sat back and shook his head. "No, silly. You were punished because of the language you used, and for oversharing her personal business in front of my parents. I let you _finish_ as your reward for standing up for her."

"Oh did you now?" Blaine side-eyed Kurt.

"Did you not _like_ your reward?" Kurt asked mischievously. "I would think having the Prince of the Kingdom, Heir to the Throne, and a dashingly handsome fellow-"

"And humble, don't forget humble," Blaine mocked, scooping up more of their meal to eat.

"allow you the distinct pleasure of sucking his cock-," Kurt continued without hesitation.

"Oh, that was about _my_ pleasure?"

"and then using your ass to bring himself to completion-"

"_Using_ … sounds about right."

"would have been its own reward," Kurt smirked, bopping Blaine on the nose with the tip of his finger. "And then, upon your pleading for additional attention,"

"Pleading?"

"Begging him to wrap his fingers around your angry, throbbing little cock,"

"**_Little_**! There's _nothing_ little about my cock and I'd be obliged to demonstrate that at any point you ask."

"until the pleasure of being touched by the prince overwhelmed you and you spilled over the prince's hand, coming dangerously close to staining his hose."

"Perhaps, if the prince had actually removed those woolen hose, instead of trying to use them to further punish that delectable ass he'd been using … You're warped, you know that, right?" Blaine asked in half-seriousness.

Reaching behind Blaine's head, Kurt pulled him forward until their foreheads met. "Spencer has, on occasion, raised the same concern."

Jealousy flared through Blaine at the thought of Kurt and Spencer's previous physical encounters. "And was that while you were bent over, Spencer giving you that hard fuck you crave?" he hissed, voice cracking with pain.

Kurt pulled back slightly, tilting his head to the side to study Blaine. "That wouldn't be jealousy I've provoked in you, would it?" he asked softly, sliding his hand around to cup Blaine's face gently.

A flash of guilt crossed Blaine's expression and he dropped his gaze.

"It's only you, Blaine," Kurt murmured, hurriedly placing the plate of food back on the tray. "It's only been you. It's only going to be you," he insisted, pulling Blaine to straddle his lap and wrapping him tight in his arms.

* * *

"Kurt?"

Tummy full of delicious food, Blaine lay in the circle of Kurt's arms, content to spend the rest of the afternoon in the heated waters. "Do you think Rachel will go through with her threat to call off the wedding?"

"No," Kurt replied, eyes closed as he traced random patterns on Blaine's chest and stomach under the water. "She's not completely foolish. To do so puts her in a dire position. I don't know what set her off this time, but I'm sure, come the stroke of midnight between the old year and the new, Finn and Rachel will be married."

They continued in peaceful silence for long minutes until Kurt interrupted it. "Blaine? Do you think you'll go back to work for Santana?"

Blaine sat up, moving his legs across Kurt's, and picking up Kurt's hands, toying with his fingers. "Yes, but not until after all this wedding stuff is finished." Studying the palm of Kurt's hand, Blaine lightly traced the lines there. "I'm tired. Like really worn out. And after what Rachel said today about naming me as the father to her child-"

"She won't actually do that," Kurt interrupted, drawing Blaine closer so he could brush his lips across Blaine's forehead.

"It doesn't matter to me, Kurt," Blaine insisted, anger seeping into his tone. "She threatened to do so without a care as to how that might actually impact my life. Our life. And I don't care if it makes me petty, I'm done making her day her version of perfect. Not if I have a choice. And your father said I'd always have a choice. You've said I'll always have a choice."

Meeting Kurt's eyes, Blaine said softly, "I'd rather choose to nest in your bed, and use your body for my own pleasure. For the next week or so, anyway."

"I can't complain about that," Kurt replied with a smile tugging at his lips.

"I didn't think you would," Blaine offered, placing a kiss on Kurt's cheek.

"Only a week, though?"

With a harrumph, Blaine rolled his eyes and sat back in the water, wrapping Kurt's arms around him. "Things I've considered," he grumbled, ticking items off his fingers. "Recovery time. Soreness. Chaffing. The desire to be able to walk somewhat normally. The inevitable need to explain your absence from court. And the ability of the laundress to remove the stains from your sheets. That, according to my calculations, puts us at seven days – on the outside."

Blaine's head bounced lightly as Kurt chuckled underneath him. "You've really thought this out."

"I take all my work seriously."

"Even when that work is playtime?"

"Especially then."


	33. You Like the Idea of Marking Me As Yours

A/N: Back to school equates to back to work for k8. I'll still be posting. Prince Kurt and Blaine's story will continue. Hugs to you all!

* * *

Blaine pulled on his navy outer coat with silver embroidery at the cuffs over his starched white shirt before studying his reflection in the mirror hanging inside his wooden armoire. Dressing for Lady Rachel Berry's wedding to Prince Finn, he'd managed to tame his curls with some oil prior to slipping into the clothing that Alistair had helped him pick out. Since he'd officially be escorting Kurt at the reception, he needed to make sure what he wore was appropriate for the occasion.

Hearing soft footfalls approach, he didn't startle when Kurt's arm slid around his waist and he hooked his chin over Blaine's shoulder, dropping a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Would you be offended if I told you you're beautiful," Kurt murmured against Blaine's warm cheek. "You take my breath away."

The honest intensity of Kurt's compliment had Blaine flushing even as he turned in Kurt's arms to place a relatively chaste kiss against his lips. "Thank you."

Stepping back, Kurt held his arms out so Blaine could appreciate the dress uniform of a Knight of the Royal Army. The deep hunter green overcoat was adorned with intricately carved wooden buttons and his sword hung from his hip in the polished scabbard. "Thoughts?"

"I think it's too bad we're due in church in an hour, because I'd love to _show_ you exactly what I _think_ about how you're dressed," Blaine rasped, eyes heavy with desire. Unashamed, Blaine moved his hand to adjust the hard length pressing against his pants, relishing in the knowledge that Kurt followed every movement.

The golden circlet Kurt wore on his head caught his eye. Stepping closer, he asked, "Is it heavy?" as he raised his finger to trace the symbol of Kurt's royal blood.

Shrugging, Kurt raised his hands to the side of his head and deftly removed the band of gold to place it carefully atop Blaine's head so he could judge for himself. "_I_ don't think so, but I don't wear it but, perhaps, once a year." He studied Blaine for a long moment before smirking. "I rather _like_ this look on you. Perhaps, sometime in the near future, we might discuss making it a more … permanent look," he added pointedly in a low voice.

Blaine froze for a moment as excitement and nerves seemed to pour into him in equal measures at Kurt's intimation. Swallowing several times, Blaine flicked his eyes from Kurt's face to the unmade bed and back again. When he finally felt he could answer without his voice betraying too much of his emotional upheaval, Blaine cleared his throat, while lifting the circlet to place it back on Kurt's head. "As a child, I never really allowed myself to hope I'd find a man I love as much as I do you. Who would love me as much as I know you do me. It would please me greatly to discuss a future … our future, with you, at some point. Preferably somewhere quiet, behind a door with several locks," he added with a smirk.

"I'll start making arrangements forthwith," Kurt growled, leaning in to capture Blaine's lips hungrily.

Pulling back with a groan, Blaine again fingered Kurt's coronet. "I'd like to see how you look wearing **_only_** this, _Your Highness_," he murmured, moving his hips against Kurt's firmly enough to make Kurt whimper with need.

Raising an eyebrow at Blaine's boldness, Kurt's grin widened as his hands gripped Blaine's hips to keep him from moving too far away. "While I'm supposed to place it back in the royal vault after the wedding reception, I could send word that I'll be bringing it back it the morning."

"Or the afternoon," Blaine suggested with a sly wink. "The reception will go late … into the early morning hours. And you'll want to sleep your fill after that."

"Sleep," snorted Kurt. "Yes, I'm sure that's _exactly_ what we'll be doing."

Rolling his eyes affectionately, Blaine pulled away and moved towards the door. "I'm sure I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that, Kurt."

"Blaine?"

Blaine could hear the anxiety filling Kurt's voice. Turning, Blaine looked back at Kurt who reached into his pocket and pulled out a heather grey velvet pouch and gently tossed it to Blaine. Unknotting the cording, Blaine dumped the contents onto the palm of his hand. A pair of cuff links – carved out of ivory and set in rose gold.

"Kurt?"

"I want you to have them, to wear tonight," he said, voice trembling slightly. "They're carved with my personal insignia. They were a gift from my father when I turned of age." Taking a deep breath, Kurt let it out slowly as he gathered the words to explain his decision to Blaine.

"I thought it might give _some_ people pause to see you wearing something bearing my mark. Even as my escort, there are members of the peerage who'll have no qualms about making rude comments or asking entirely too personal questions. I can't give you a crown – yet – or a ring – but I could give you something that shows to whom you belong. Whose heart you hold."

Removing the simple silver cuff links he'd brought from home, Blaine began to use the pair Kurt had gifted him with to fasten the cuffs of his starched shirt. Smiling at Kurt, Blaine teased, "Admit it. You _like_ the idea of marking me as yours."

"Well, there's that too. I considered marking your body with a series of love bites – but that suggests I'd allow another man close enough to view your body unclothed. That's not going to happen. Not while I'm still breathing." Kurt moved to stand before Blaine, cupping his jaw tenderly as he gazed softly at his lover.

"Shall we go see your brother and my ex-fiancée married off?" Blaine asked with some enthusiasm. "While I hear the food will be outstanding and the entertainment at the reception second to none, I'm rather looking forward to the late evening's events."

Holding out his elbow, Kurt walked them to the bedroom door. "Anything in particular?"

"Stripping off these uncomfortable clothes, then you, on your hands and knees, wearing only that coronet, begging for my cock to fill you," Blaine growled out quietly as they slipped from the room.

"Fuck. How long until we can make that happen?"

"Five hours by my count."

"Fuck. Any chance we can slip away before then?"

"Maybe. Between the wedding and the reception, maybe. But only if you're good and don't give us away."

"Fuck, _Blaine_. I'm **always** good."

"We'll see, _Your Highness_. We'll see."

* * *

End Note: And now on to the wedding/ reception. Wish me luck on finding the energy to stay up past 8:30pm so I can write the scenes in my head.


	34. Here Comes the Bride

Once the members of the peerage and other guests had been seated on the dark wooden pews in the cathedral, Master of Ceremonies Figgins signaled to the Head Squire to have Prince Finn take his place on the raised dais. Turning to face the royal family, Figgins sketched a short bow to the King and Queen-Consort. "It's time."

Dressed in a deep red gown embroidered with white and gold threads, High Clerk Santana Lopez offered her arm to her wife, Lady Brittney Pierce who wore a mirror image dress of gold with red and white embroidery. As one of the highest ranking officials in the kingdom, Lady Santana was afforded the right to walk down the center aisle which was otherwise kept exclusively for the royal family, the bride and her attendants.

As the ladies reached a predetermined spot, Figgins gestured with his hand for Special Emissary Alistair Porter and his husband Sir Spencer Porter to follow.

Taking a nervous breath, Blaine stepped forward and waited for Figgins to give him the signal. Kurt had strenuously objected when Figgins had insisted on separating the two of them during the processional. In the end, the Master of Ceremonies had won, and Kurt, as Prince of the Kingdom, would walk down the aisle alone – as a show of his unmarried status

Blaine startled slightly as Kurt pressed up against his back, his hand snaking around to grip Blaine's hip bone. "You're nervous."

Pressing his lips together, Blaine tried to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. "Yes, Your Highness."

"Knock it off," Kurt hissed into Blaine's ear, carefully making sure the assembled guests couldn't see their interaction. Tugging Blaine slightly aside, Kurt turned him so they were face to face. "You're going to walk down that aisle, sit with Carole, pass her your handkerchief as she tears up at the ceremony, walk back down the aisle and then I'm going to strip your ass bare and have my way with you," he whispered heatedly.

Seeing color return to Blaine's face, Kurt leaned in to kiss him hard before spinning him around and back into place as Figgins glared, upset at the interruption to his precise time schedule. Head spinning, Blaine stepped out on to the red velvet runner, keeping his gaze set on Finn.

"Dare I ask what you said to the man to get him to flush like that?" teased King Burt quietly.

"I have no idea what you are speaking of, Father," Kurt replied dryly, giving his cuffs a final tug into place.

Without warning, a gasp from the assembled guests filled the air, and Kurt was shouldered aside by his father who angrily strode down the aisle. Glancing back to make sure Queen Carole was alright, he realized she was gesturing for him to follow his father.

It was only then that he realized that Blaine was lying sprawled on the velvet runner, unmoving.

* * *

By the time King Burt had reached Blaine, Sir Spencer and Sir Noah were helping him to sit up. Crouching down before Blaine, Burt reached a hand out, studying the large knot forming on his forehead. "Easy there, Son," he murmured, noting some of the shocked gasps of the peerage as he addressed Blaine so familiarly. "You took quite a spill there, and tried to move one of these pews with your head."

Standing up, Burt caught Kurt by the arms before he threw himself down next to his lover, making an even bigger spectacle. "He's okay, Kurt. Go back and as soon as we get Blaine into his seat, escort the Queen down the aisle." Burt's tone brooked no argument, but it still took Kurt several moments before his brain caught up with the command. Nodding once, Kurt hurried back up the aisle.

King Burt eyes narrowed as he took in the snickers Lord Sebastian barely hid behind his fist, and the complete absence of emotion of the man sitting behind him. Leaning down, Burt made a show of reattaching the tulle and flower swag that Blaine had knocked down in his tumble. "Anderson," he growled, keeping his face schooled, "you touch that boy again, by any means, and there won't be a place on this earth where you will be able to find sanctuary. I will hunt you down and your screams for mercy will be for my amusement only."

Standing once more King Burt took a step forward and made sure his hand fell on Lord Sebastian's shoulder, his fingers digging in hard. "You'll have to share that joke that was making you laugh so hard, Sebastian." Feeling the young man flinch in pain, King Burt let go slowly. "I'll be sure to find you at the reception and we can have a nice long discussion at that time."

Rubbing at his shoulder, Sebastian managed a weak, "Yes, Your Majesty," as King Burt turned away.

Spencer and Noah had gotten Blaine to his feet where he was clearly favoring one leg. "He's twisted his knee," Spencer explained quietly, an arm wrapped around Blaine's waist to help keep his weight off of the injury.

King Burt reached out and gripped Blaine's chin, studying his eyes. "Your pupils seem to be even, so your head must be harder than I suspected. That'll come in handy with Kurt," he teased gently. "Let's get you to your seat before Lady Rachel accuses you of taking some of the attention away from her," the king remarked drolly, following the men as they made their way up the aisle.

Once Blaine was seated on the front pew, Sir Noah went to ask a page to retrieve some ice for Blaine's knee and King Burt grasped Sir Spencer's elbow lightly before he returned to his place with his husband one pew back. "An hour into the reception Duke Anderson, Duke Smythe and Lord Sebastian are to be in my private offices. Four … no, six guards of your choosing. Ones known for their discretion."

"Done, Your Majesty." Spencer gave a curt nod.

"Did you see what happened?" King Burt asked, facing Finn and giving his step-son a fond smile.

"No, Your Majesty."

"Duke Anderson's cane just happened to slip into the aisle as Blaine was passing by."

"Son of a-" Spencer caught himself at the last minute.

"My sentiments exactly."

"Your Majesty –"

Kurt and Carole arrived at the front pew, interrupting Sir Spencer and whatever he was going to say. Burt patted his shoulder with affection, gruffly saying, "We'll finish this discussion later. Go sit with your husband."

King Burt kissed Carole on the cheek, and smiled down at Kurt who'd taken Burt's seat on the pew and was holding Blaine's hands, whispering anxiously to his lover. At a change in the music, Burt guided Carole to sit on the right side of Blaine. Moving to stand above Kurt, Burt tapped his foot against Kurt's boot. "Rachel's attendants are making their way down the aisle. You need to take your place next to Finn. We'll take care of Blaine."

Kurt bit his lower lip nervously as he slid out of the seat. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you more than you will ever know until you hold your own son or daughter in your arms one day," Burt insisted softly. "Go stand by your brother as he takes this momentous step in his life. You can dote on your love all you want at the reception."

* * *

By the time all of Lady Rachel's bridesmaids and Prince Finn's groomsmen were in place, the page who'd been sent for ice had returned, and Queen Carole was holding the oilcloth lightly against Blaine's knee, dampening the fabric. As the beginning notes to the song Rachel had selected for her walk down the aisle began, King Burt slid a hand under Blaine's arm, helping him to his feet. "Never let them see your pain if you can help it, Son."

It didn't escape Blaine's notice that as everyone turned to see Lady Rachel's procession, his father stood, glaring daggers in his direction. A few months ago, this might have caused him to quake in fear, anticipating another beating at some perceived fault or slight. But Blaine had changed in the months he'd been in King Burt's court. He no longer feared the reach of his father. And whatever his father thought, Blaine knew by showing his true colors today, he'd lost the respect of some of the members of the peerage. Maybe not the Smythes, but other equally powerful families who didn't agree with his father's view of life.

As Rachel climbed the steps onto the dais, her fathers stepped past Queen Carole and took their seats on the royal pew. Once King Burt sat down, the rest of the assembly took their seats in a rustling of fabric. Blaine leaned toward King Burt and murmured, "Thank you for giving me a home. I love your son more than I can put into words, and I need you to know that your acceptance of me into your court and into your family means almost as much to me as Kurt does."

Swiping at his eyes, Burt leaned his head against Blaine's, smiling at the look Kurt shot to both of them. "Make me tear up any more, Blaine, and I'll have you mucking the stalls of the Royal Guard's horses."

Smirking, Blaine nudged the king with his elbow. "Understood, Your Majesty."

As the priest took his position in front of Finn and Rachel, Burt whispered, "How's the knee?"

Blaine shifted in the pew, moving Queen Carole's hand so the bag of ice fell on a part of his knee that wasn't numb from the cold. "Hurts. And it's swelling. I'm sure a few glasses of wine will make me care less about the pain."

"There is that," Burt agreed, staring up at the ceremony he'd been through twice himself – although the cathedral had been busting at the seams for both of his marriages. "Stay off of it, as much as you can. Bed rest. I'm sure Kurt can help you with that."

"Shush," Carole admonished, leaning over to take Burt's hand and squeezing it in a subtle reprimand.

Unconcerned at the awkwardness of holding his wife's hand across Blaine, King Burt raised her fingers to his mouth and dropped a soft kiss there before allowing her to take her hand back. "You'd think, being king, people would stop correcting my supposed flaws," Burt grumbled, turning his attention to the ceremony, ignoring the sudden coughing fit that overtook Blaine.

* * *

For all the hours of planning that went in to the guests' seating chart, flower arrangements, musical selections and such, the marriage ceremony was blessedly short. Once the rings were exchanged and they were introduced as Princess Rachel and Prince Finn Hudson, Rachel rushed Finn down the red velvet runner, a light green tinge overtaking her features.

The rest of the wedding party left at a more sedate pace and King Burt waved Blaine back into his seat as he tried to rise. "Kurt will come get you. Stay here. Don't put weight on that knee unless you can help it. We'll see you at the reception shortly."

Linking arms with Queen Carole, King Burt led the Earls Berry down the aisle so the rest of the guests could begin filing out of the cathedral, taking a short walk across the snowy courtyard into the Garden Ballroom where the rest of the festivities would be held.

"Hello, handsome," Kurt murmured as he slid next to Blaine, wrapping his arm around Blaine's waist. "Can you make it to the door over there?" he asked, gesturing to the door that led to the groom's retreat.

"With help," Blaine replied, not even bothering to cover up how much his knee was throbbing.

Slipping Blaine's arm around his shoulder, Kurt maneuvered the two of them to standing, taking most of Blaine's weight as they walked slowly toward the doorway. "What happened?" Kurt asked.

"Not sure," Blaine hissed as Kurt had to shift some of the weight back to Blaine in order to open the door. "I was walking and then I tripped and hit my head. I remember stars and then nothing. Then I was staring up at Spencer and the king."

Kurt settled Blaine onto an overstuffed leather sofa before going back to the door and locking it. "We need to take your pants off-"

Blaine gave Kurt a scandalized glance. "We're in church, Kurt. Even I have my limits."

Huffing, Kurt walked over to the sofa, and removed his ceremonial sword, tossing it aside before standing over Blaine. "Technically, this isn't part of the cathedral. Don't ask how I know that. It involves Noah. But these rooms here aren't part of the sanctified grounds. Not that I was planning on ravishing you here right now."

"Right," Blaine commented skeptically.

"Okay, fine, I might have been earlier, before you hurt yourself. Now, I just want to check out the damage to you knee and see if we need to send for the doctor." Kurt kept his arms crossed against his body, waiting for Blaine to see the truth in his eyes.

"If we get the pants off, I'm not going to get them back on. The swelling's too great," Blaine admitted.

Nodding, Kurt moved towards a small desk and a hanging tassel, which he tugged three times. Within moments a sharp knock at the door sounded, and Kurt strode over, having a quick, whispered conversation before shutting the door again.

Unbuttoning his dress coat, Kurt folded it neatly, leaving it on the desk. Kneeling before Blaine, Kurt ran his fingers over his swollen knee as lightly as possible, still causing Blaine to flinch away and keen in pain. "We're not getting your pants off over this. Take your belt off."

Blaine recognized the commanding tone in Kurt's voice, and wriggled up to a sitting position without objection, making quick work of his belt. Shrugging out of his navy overcoat, he sat in his white dress shirt as Kurt pulled a short dirk from his boot. "What the hell do you intend to do with that?" an incredulous Blaine asked.

Wiggling his eyebrows, Kurt offered a small smirk. "Cut your pants off of you."

"Fuck," Blaine moaned, flopping his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. He felt a strong tug on the material he was wearing and then a ripping sound as Kurt pulled the fabric apart over his swollen knee. A rush of relief overtook him as his knee was freed and a rather loud groan escaped his lips.

Kurt cupped Blaine's cheek, brushing their lips together in a slow tease. "It does things to me when you make noises like that, Lord Anderson." A knock at the door kept Kurt from taking things any further.

Taking the supplies from the novice priest, Kurt returned to Blaine's side. "Drink this," he instructed, handing Blaine a mug of tea. "It has something for the pain and to speed the healing. I'm going to wrap your knee and then we'll see about getting you into these hose so you can make an appearance at the reception.

With Kurt's help, Blaine was able to lift himself up so what remained of his pants could be removed, leaving him only in his undergarments. All business, Kurt carefully, but confidently wrapped Blaine's knee with the skill of someone who'd seen his share of this type of injury in his lifetime.

That done, Kurt made quick work of Blaine's boots, so he could slide the chestnut brown hose onto his legs. "How're you holding up?"

Grimacing in pain, Blaine shrugged. "Hurts. I'll make it." Sliding to the edge of the sofa, Blaine allowed Kurt to roll the hose up his legs, over his knees and up his thighs. "Wait. Let me … the hose is squeezing my knee. Give me a minute to adjust." Blaine slumped back, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. It'd gotten him through the residual pain from more than one beating.

Warmth flooded his groin as Kurt leaned forward and blew a deep breath against the thin fabric covering his manhood. "Dammit, Kurt," he growled, frustrated as his fingers wrapped themselves through the strands of Kurt's hair, pulling them free from his coronet, and held him in place.

Moments later, his cock was free of his confines, only to be surrounded by tight, wet heat as Kurt swallowed him down. The pain of his knee slowly ebbed away as Kurt worked him over, licking from root to tip before lapping at the leaking head, only to swallow him whole once more.

Blaine had no idea how long they stayed in this position, Kurt distracting him from his pain in the most pleasurable way. A familiar tingling in his spine and tightening in his balls was his brief warning before he exploded into Kurt's mouth, his lover moaning at the sensation.

When they'd caught their breath, Kurt silently assisted Blaine in pulling the hose the rest of the way up his body. Once they'd both fully dressed, Kurt finger combed his hair into place, replacing his coronet and wrapped his arm around Blaine, once more taking his weight.

"The tea really will help with the pain," Kurt commented as they left the groom's retreat. "I've asked the priests to send some more up to our room. But sometimes other things can help too. For a brief time, anyway."

"Offering to tend to my needs, Your Highness?" Blaine teased, lifting his face for a quick kiss as they hit the frigid evening air.

"Any time. Any needs," Kurt assured, pulling Blaine even more tightly against his body.

"Well, stay close then."

"Not intending to leave your side. Not tonight. Not ever."

* * *

_End Note:_ _Thank you to all of you who wrote with well wishes. I am feeling better and stronger almost every day. Almost twenty years ago, I woke up one morning unable to see correctly or walk. After some rushed testing, my neurologist diagnosed me with Multiple Sclerosis. As an autoimmune disease, my immune system sometimes decides I'm the enemy - as was the case last month when I caught a chest cold and, wow, I haven't experienced fatigue that bad in a very long time. By the time I was able to email out my Author's Update, I was starting the road to recovery. Since then I've been trying to catch up with work while not pushing myself too hard - leaving little time for writing. Today the boys wanted to play, and I agreed. This is way longer than I intended (I was at 900 words going, 'just a little bit more' then BAM 2900 words) but you deserve it. Thank you for your patience. k8_


	35. Royals Don't Have Tantrums

A raised dais had been erected at one end of the Garden Ballroom, overlooking the smaller tables where the rest of the guests were sitting and eating the beginning courses of what would be an excellent meal. Princess Rachel and Prince Finn sat in the middle of the head table, with the King and Queen sitting to the side of Prince Finn, and the Earls Berry to the side of Princess Rachel.

Slipping his arm around Blaine's waist, Kurt assisted him with the three steps leading up to the dais as the King himself pulled Blaine's chair out for him. Once Blaine had settled into the cushioned chair, Kurt motioned Marley to his side.

"Would you ask one of the pages to bring Lord Blaine a footstool and send to the kitchen for more ice for his knee?" he asked softly, giving the cook's daughter a fond smile.

Marley peeked around Prince Kurt's shoulder. "He's hurt himself? Goodness, Your Highness. I'll take care of it right away." She dipped a quick curtsy and hurried off.

Taking his seat between his father and his lover, Kurt took a deep sip of the pale yellow wine, the flavors bursting across his tongue. Turning his head, he asked Blaine, "What have you arranged for entertainment during the meal?"

Before Blaine could answer, Rachel's shrill voice interrupted their quiet conversation.

"I'm just saying, Finn, it would have been nice for your brother to have made it in time to be part of the receiving line instead of strolling in late with his lover in tow. I'm sure I'm not the only person who noticed that whatever kept them - it involved Blaine changing his pants." Taking a sip of water, Rachel leaned forward in order to glare at the two men.

King Burt shifted in his seat, blocking Rachel's line of sight. "Lord Blaine was tripped as he walked down the aisle of the church. His knee is quite swollen as a result, Rachel. I'm sure the change of clothing has to do with that, and not with whatever debauchery your mind would have the gentlemen perpetrating. Even on her wedding day, a princess must be mindful that the world does not revolve around her."

Cutting off any retort she might have made, King Burt stood and lifted a goblet of wine, waiting for the noisy room to slowly drift to silence. As he made a toast to the married couple, Marley hurried behind him followed by a young court page shouldering a padded footstool. Marley handed the bag of ice to Blaine and pointed to Prince Kurt who was holding out his hands for the stool, taking it and promptly sliding it under Blaine's knee.

Leaning between the men, Marley asked softly, "Is there anything else I can bring either of you?"

"Besides a gag for our new princess?" grumbled Kurt as Marley giggled into her hands. "No, Marley. I think we'll be fine from here. Thank you for your assistance."

Glancing over his shoulder, Blaine gave his friend a wan smile. "Maybe a dance, later? Depending on how my knee feels. A pretty girl like you should have at least one turn around the dance floor at this reception."

Marley's cheeks flushed a dark pink. "That's too kind, Lord Blaine. But I'm just the help."

"There's nothing 'just' about you Marley," Kurt insisted firmly. He ignored the wetness he saw build in her eyes, instead taking her hand to squeeze it gently. Turning away, Kurt assumed the role of Prince of the Kingdom again, raising his glass as his father finished his toast to the new couple and then standing to make his own.

Blaine gazed up at Kurt, watching the powerful man address a room full of people he would one day govern as king. With the candlelight glinting off the coronet in his hair, Kurt looked every bit the royal Prince, every bit the Knight-Commander in the King's Army, and little like the man who warmed his bed at night. That Kurt wore a softer look. This Kurt demanded the use of his title just by his carriage and countenance.

"And finally, I'd like to wish my brother and his new wife a long and prosperous marriage filled with love, laughter, and children. To the Prince and Princess." Kurt raised his goblet up high as the room echoed his words, before drinking a sip and returning to his seat.

Leaning his head to the side, Kurt raised his eyebrows, muttering, "Won't it be amazing how I predicted their fertility during my wedding toast? They'll be lining up on open-court days to ask '_Prince Kurt, can you please bless me with a child like you did Princess Rachel_'."

Blaine snickered into his hand. "You make it sound like you _blessed_ her with that child. That's rather off-putting news to find out about one's lover. That not only is he carrying on with someone else, but that that someone else … is a girl."

Kurt closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. "I hate you."

"That's not how _his Highness_ was acting less than an hour ago," Blaine whispered next to Kurt's ear, ignoring the glances and stares of the wedding guests.

"That was before you made me picture Rachel in my bed," Kurt commented dryly, brushing his lips against Blaine's warm mouth. "There's only one man who belongs there – whether in person or in my fantasies."

"You brought it up first," Blaine teased. Blaine grinned as Kurt slid a hand to the back of his neck to hold him in place as he kissed him firmly.

Kurt pulled back, mouth open with a witty retort when the sound of shattering glass silenced the room. It took but a moment to find the source of the commotion. Resting his forehead against Blaine's, Kurt sighed. "The man who sired you is an arrogant ass. I'm not sure who will end up making a bigger scene at this reception – our new princess, or him."

Deflating, Blaine tried to pull away from Kurt's hold in order to see what exactly his father had done, but Kurt's grip was firm. "That's a quandary, _Your Highness_," Blaine finally with a small smile. "Our princess certainly has had some recent practice with tantrums of a royal level."

"Royals don't have tantrums," Kurt retorted.

"I respectfully disagree with your assessment. I seem to remember ending up sodden with water, thrown over your shoulder, staring at your ass when I tried to run away from you and my responsibilities." Blaine reached a hand out and wove their fingers together, resting them on Kurt's thigh.

Leaning back in his chair, Kurt stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. "I'm not sure if that was a tantrum. More like … insisting on getting my way."

Shaking his head softly, Blaine couldn't help the grin that slowly spread across his face. He held his reply as several servers came and placed platters of dried fruit, cheeses, cured meat and toasted bread in front of them. Picking out a few of his favorites, Blaine placed them on the plate in front of him and began to eat.

A small stringed quartet played soft music as the guests ate. Rachel had wanted a larger orchestra for the meal, but after a very lengthy chat with both Blaine and Queen Carole, she finally conceded that it might hinder conversation to have so many musicians playing. Taking a deep breath, Blaine let it out slowly. It was almost over. The chaos the court had been thrown into since the announcement of the wedding. He could almost see the end to it all.

"What has you looking so pensive?" Kurt asked, turning back from a conversation he'd been having with his father.

"This," Blaine replied, waving a hand towards the guests. "It's been the court's every thought for the past … has it only been ten days? I was thinking how I'm just grateful that tomorrow morning, I can just go back to being nothing more than Blaine. Blaine who works in the High Clerk's office."

A cough and clearing of the throat drew Blaine and Kurt's attention to the king. Taking a deep drink of his water, King Burt's eyes pierced Blaine with a serious look. "I'm not sure your life will go back to being quite so simple … _Your Grace_."

* * *

_End Note: I found my cliff! It was tucked away in the closet, but there it is - a bit dusty - but here nonetheless. This story reminds me of Rachel Platten's Fight Song: 'I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion." I think everything is just building to a 'boom'. Thank you for reading and Happy Thanksgiving. k8_


	36. Your Grace

Inside King Burt's private office, Blaine found himself sitting on an overstuffed leather chair near the crackling fire, the heat of which soothed his knee. Soon after the superb meal had been completed, Rachel and Finn got up to take their first dance as man and wife. It was at that point the king had quietly asked Kurt to escort Blaine to his private office.

Neither of them had any idea why.

"How is your knee?" Kurt asked, pouring them each a drink out of a crystal decanter that stood on the corner of his father's wooden desk.

Accepting the glass from Kurt, Blaine took a long sip of the amber liquid. "Throbbing less. I think the ice helped. And whatever was in that tea you gave me earlier. Do you-"

Any other conversation between them was halted as the door swung open and King Burt strode into the room, followed by Sir Spencer and Sir Noah. Pointing a finger at Blaine who was half-way out of his chair, the king commanded, "Don't get up." He continued into the room until he was at his desk, whereupon he spun and sat on the edge, gripping the edge tightly and eyes narrowed in barely contained anger.

After a moment, several additional guardsmen silently escorted Duke Anderson, Duke Smythe, and Lord Sebastian into the room. Sir Spencer slammed the door shut, causing the three men to startle.

"_Kneel_," barked King Burt.

"What?" blustered Duke Anderson, looking around the room for something he would not find.

King Burt's voice dropped a level as he glared at the man in front of him. "**Kneel**," he commanded, nodding at the guardsmen who assisted the three men in kneeling before their king.

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded an indignant Duke Smythe.

"You've no right," added Duke Anderson.

_Slap_.

Sir Spencer Porter stood in front of Duke Anderson, watching as his Grace's cheek flushed a deep pink around the white handprint he'd left. "You will not speak unless His Majesty grants you leave or asks you a direct question," he growled, moving his hand to the pommel of his sword in subtle warning.

The duke starred daggers at Spencer but held his tongue.

"Lord Sebastian." The king waited until Sebastian bravely looked up. "What is the kingdom's punishment for forcing one's self on another citizen?"

Blaine watched as the color slowly leeched from Sebastian's face. He felt Kurt squeezing his shoulder in support as Blaine looked between the king and his tormentor.

"Fifteen years hard labor in the mines, Your Majesty," murmured Lord Smythe.

"Correct," King Burt replied in a clipped tone. "Which makes my decision to give you a choice even more magnanimous."

When it looked like Duke Smythe was about to object, Sir Noah stepped forward, raising his fist. He waited in place until King Burt waved him to step back. "Fifteen years in the mines for your attack on Lord Blaine Anderson at the Masquerade your father hosted, or you are the newest volunteer in the King's Army."

Kurt's ears perked up, shooting Spencer a pointed look. If Sebastian joined the King's Army, it would place him under Kurt's authority. While Sword Master Bieste would be most directly responsible for his training, Sebastian would also face Kurt across the training yard on a regular basis. It would an enormous test of Kurt's integrity to not accidentally on purpose take off Sebastian's head for his crimes against Blaine.

Sebastian looked stunned.

"I'll need an answer before you leave this room. The guards need to know where to escort you." Realizing that Sebastian needed time to sort his thoughts, King Burt brought his gaze to rest on Duke Anderson.

"Tying your son up to prevent his answering the Consent of King act – is an act of treason. As was attempting to force your son into a marriage he didn't desire through threats of beatings or worse." Stalking forward, King Burt grasped Duke Anderson's chin, squeezing until the man whimpered in pain. "You beat your son. That's an even worse crime as far as I am concerned."

"I've lost sleep considering what should happen to you, _Your Grace_," he spat. "And then, I had an epiphany. I would remove what you sadly value most in your life. Henceforth, you are stripped of your titles and your land rights. I am banishing you and your wife from my lands. You will be escorted back to the manor you _used_ to live in, and you and your wife will have one hour to pack anything you can carry on a horse. After which, you will be escorted to our borders."

"_Your Majesty_," whispered the former Duke, who was slowly turning a sickly shade of green.

"It's your life should you attempt to return while I sit on the throne." King Burt looked over at Duke Smythe, frowning. "I have no doubt you knew what your son had done, Smythe. And I have no qualms about enacting a similar sentence upon you and yours. You swore fealty to the crown that sits upon my head."

A spark of defiance flickered in Duke Smythe's gaze. "Do you _really_ think you will continue to wear that crown if the peerage sees you hacking away at them like an overgrown path. There'll be an uprising within the year. You wouldn't dare."

A deadly smirk formed on King Burt's lips. He pointed at himself. "**_King_**."

Looking at Sir Spencer and Sir Noah, King Burt nodded once. "You have your orders."

Without hesitation, Spencer and Noah hauled the former members of the peerage to their feet and shoved them toward the door. As Sebastian was yanked up, he snapped his head up to meet King Burt's glare. "The King's Army, Your Majesty," he answered in a rush.

"Take him to the Sword Master," Kurt commanded the two soldiers escorting Sebastian.

When everyone had exited and the door banged shut again, King Burt sighed deeply and turned to look at his son and Blaine. "I've drawn up paperwork. You are officially Duke Blaine Anderson with all the rights and lands your father governed as well as those overseen by the former Duke Smythe. After the rest of this wedding nonsense is complete, you and I and Kurt and Lady Santana will sit down to discuss the details."

"Sir." Blaine could barely process what the king's pronouncement would mean.

King Burt waved away his look of concern. "Blaine, son, that rat-bastard Smythe was correct about one thing – the peerage won't stand for my cleaning house if they perceive that I am doing so from a point of weakness. I cannot leave the Dukedoms empty. And eventually, there would be objections to the Heir to the throne marrying an untitled gentleman. Your becoming the new Duke solves more than one headache. _Your Grace_."

Kurt snorted as he pressed his fingertips lightly against his eyelids. "We're not done with _this_ wedding disaster, and you're already marrying me off to Blaine? What if he's gotten his fill of our family and has silently been plotting his run for the hills?"

Smiling as he looked down at Blaine and then back up to Kurt, King Burt assured, "He's not leaving you, Kurt. And if he did, I have no doubt you'd follow him to the ends of _this_ world _and_ the next."

Walking towards the door, Burt added over his shoulder, "I'm going to leave the two of you here. Please don't … do anything unseemly or inappropriate. And please consider coming back to the reception so that annoying little girl doesn't have one more item to add to her list of grievances."

As the door shut behind his father, Kurt stooped to hoist Blaine up so he could slide underneath. Settling Blaine on his lap, Kurt commented, "I don't think he's very enamored with Lady Rachel."

"I can't imagine why," Blaine muttered sarcastically, clutching Kurt's hands with his own to keep them from trembling."

"It's shocking that she wasn't snapped up by some gentleman before now."

"_Fuuck_, Kurt. Have I thanked you lately for saving me from … _that_?"

Tightening his hold on Blaine, Kurt kissed his temple. "Saving you from your sham marriage? I don't think thanks are needed. I got just as much out of your broken engagement as you did. More, perhaps."

"I'm not sure I agree," Blaine whispered, shivering despite the closeness of the fire.

Kurt shifted Blaine in his arms so he could kiss him properly. After a slow, deliberate kiss, Kurt pulled away enough to murmur, "For the record, I've _never_ made love to a duke before. _Your Grace_."


	37. Business to Attend to

**Warnings**: Violence. And no sexy times. I think that should have its own warning.

* * *

"I think I can make it on my own, Kurt," harrumphed Blaine trying to put more weight on his knee.

"That's a lovely sentiment, _Your Grace_," Kurt purred, pulling Blaine closer to his side as they made their way down the empty hallway. "But I'd like to take advantage of you this evening, including sharing a dance or three. If you abuse your knee, that won't happen … and I'll be sorely disappointed. You don't want to disappoint your prince, do you?"

Growling, Blaine rolled his eyes. "No, we certainly can't have that. He'd never let me hear the end of it."

The sound of pounding boots drawing nearer had Kurt maneuvering Blaine behind him as he dropped his hand to rest on the pommel of his sword. His head squire, looking flushed, raced up and dropped a quick half-bow to Kurt.

"Your Highness. Sir Porter sends word the Dukes Anderson and Smythe have escaped custody. There were men lying in wait," the young man sputtered between panting breaths.

Kurt shook his head in disbelief, carefully looking down the hallway both in the direction they'd just come from and the way the squire had taken to reach them. "How could they have known what my father planned?"

"I don't know, Sir. Sir Porter wanted me to reach you so that you would know of the danger and surround yourself with a proper guard. He's giving pursuit and sent Squire Michael to warn your father."

Pulling his sword from his scabbard, Kurt motioned the squire forward. "Help Duke Anderson walk back to the reception. I'll cover you both." Seeing the objection rise in his squire, Kurt raised his hand, palm held out. "I've a decade more experience than you, Joshua."

As Blaine slid his arm around the shoulders of the lanky youth, the squire looked down and gave him a half-smile. "Congratulations on your promotion, Your Grace. I grew up on a small farm south of the Smythe Manor. I'm sure I speak for many of your new subjects when I say I look forward to … this change in leadership."

They resumed walking, Kurt slowing their pace so that he could check the alcoves and other passageways. "Thank you, Squire Joshua. Perhaps after Lady Lopez and His Majesty have spoken with me regarding my new duties, we might meet to discuss your observations. I've only visited the Smythe Manor on a few occasions, usually for some festivity they were hosting. I'd appreciate your insights."

The scuffling of boots on stone behind them drew their attention as a large man dressed entirely in black stepped out of the shadows, cross bow pointed at the prince. Fear snaked through the pit of Blaine's stomach. Without a word, Joshua maneuvered Blaine behind him, carefully pulling a dirk from his boot and placing it Blaine's hand.

Kurt's eyes never left those of their assailants, holding his sword at the ready. "Blaine, the statue of King Aidan hides a passage that will take you to safety. Pull the rope on the left as you enter."

"Kurt," Blaine ground out.

"It appears I have business to attend to," Kurt commented dryly, taking two steps to his left bringing two other attackers into his view. "I'll be with you forthwith."

"Aww," growled one of the men still hidden in shadows, "the prince wants to protect his pretty wounded birdie. It's too bad he'll never fly for you again, Your Highness."

At the loud clanging of steel meeting steel, Blaine tore himself away from the wall and stumbled down the hallway toward the statue of Kurt's great grandfather. The small hidden doorway was easy enough to find, and just as Blaine stepped through, a hand grabbed his shirt and he was thrown against the base of the statue.

One of the assailants straddled his legs, bringing the tip of his sword against Blaine's neck. His hood fell forward, keeping his face hidden in shadow. "I don't think so, Lord Anderson. You're expected elsewhere … for the time being."

Blaine could hear the violent sounds of the fighting behind him as he was waved to standing. A man's dying shriek drew the attention of his captor just long enough for Blaine to grip the handle of the borrowed dirk and drive it home.

It was more difficult than he thought it would be – driving the knife into the man's sternum. And then there was the blood. Swallowing hard, Blaine yanked the dirk from the dying man and shoved him aside, diving for the passage. With a glance towards Kurt, Blaine felt for the rope Kurt had assured him would be there and wrapped his fingers around it.

Finding Blaine's eyes from across the hallway, Kurt parried a sword blow and quickly kicked his attacker away from him. "**Pull it**," he shouted before meeting the next blow.

The sound of the stone door slamming shut filled Kurt with relief as he fought for his, and Joshua's, lives.

* * *

It was pitch black.

Keeping a hand on the rock wall, Blaine held the dirk out in front of him and carefully made his way through the narrow tunnel. Kurt had said it would take him to safety, though Blaine had no idea where in the castle he'd end up.

It was one sliding step after the other as he tried to keep himself calm. His mind spun with questions – Was Kurt okay? Had the king been warned? What exactly had his father been thinking? Who had wanted him and for what purpose? And then the thought of how the new princess might be reacting to the sudden interruption to her wedding reception.

Blaine barked out a semi-hysterical laugh.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and rested against the wall for a moment, uneasy at the skittering sounds he imagined were mice and rats making their own way through the tunnel. Lovely.

Ignoring the subtle throbbing in his knee, Blaine started walking again, keeping his eyes closed as that seemed to make the dark less oppressive. "_Kurt will be okay_," he murmured to the darkness. "_He knows what he's doing. He's a Knight. He trains regularly. He'll be okay, Blaine. Let's just get you out of here."_

Suddenly the floor dropped out from below Blaine and he fell forward, slamming both knees into the stone floor as his hands skidded out until his chin smashed down and he saw actual stars. Whimpering in pain, and somewhat stunned, Blaine lay on the cold stone for untold minutes as he waited for the pain to subside.

Slowly he rolled onto his back, staring up into the nothingness. "_At least there wasn't anyone around to see that amazing moment of grace, Blaine_," he muttered. Feeling something bounce across his leg, Blaine hauled himself up to a sitting position. "_Well, except for you Norbert. Wherever the hell you are_."

Concerned that the rats might be sizing him up, Blaine grunted and forced himself to stand up and continue walking. Now, thanks to his fall, not only were both knees throbbing, but his hands and chin and head as well. Keeping a vision of Kurt's heated bathing pool in his mind, Blaine put one foot in front of the other and focused on finding the end of this endless tunnel to nowhere.

* * *

End Note: Merry Holidays and Happy New Year to all.


	38. Earl Norbert Ratt of Castle Hummel

A/N: First, Happy New Year. We've got about 8 hours to go here - but have been watching the rest of the world's celebrations. This chapter is longer than normal - but you deserve it, and if I cut it sooner, you wouldn't get the interaction with the Earl. May 2016 bring you peace and prosperity. k8.

* * *

It had taken longer than he'd thought, but with Squire Joshua's assistance, Kurt had managed to dispatch their assailants in the end. It had been apparent that these men operated under the same assumption that many who faced Prince Kurt did – that his preference for men made him weaker than the average man.

There was nothing average about Prince Kurt, not the least of which his skills at combat. It was an assumption that had cost the assassins their lives.

"Leave the bodies, Squire," Kurt ordered, using the nearby drapery to wipe the blood from his sword. "We need to alert the Guard and find my father."

"What about Blaine – Duke Anderson?" Joshua used his teeth to pull a strip of his shirt tight around his arm to stay the bleeding from a wound he'd received.

Kurt put his hand on his squire's shoulder, propelling him down the hallway. "The rope he pulled caused the door to shut. Permanently. Well, at least until the castle's masons see if they can reset it. Point is – we can't get through and I don't know where that tunnel leads to. Frankly, I'm not sure any person living knows where it goes."

Looking quizzically at the prince, Squire Joshua said, "Well, if you don't mind me asking, Sir, how did you know of its existence in the first place? And how will we find the duke?"

Ruffling the young man's hair with his fingers, Kurt explained, "It was one of the first lessons I remember my mother teaching me – the location of the royal bolt holes. The next time you are near the roofs, really look at the castle walls. You'll start to notice that some of them seem too thick or bend in odd places. Some of that are just passageways to connect different rooms – the kitchen to the royal quarters, or my great-grandfather's room to his mistress's quarters. Scandalous, I know."

"And as to how we will find Duke Blaine … well, hopefully the castle maps have been kept up-to-date in the last two hundred or so years. If not," he spoke softly as his father approached with a contingent of Royal Guardsmen, "we can ask the Spy Master. He'll know."

"Your Majesty," Prince Kurt and Squire Joshua said as the king stopped in front of them.

Waving half of the Guard forward to continue searching the hallway, King Burt gripped Kurt's chin, peering at the bruising that was just beginning to form on his cheek. "Care to explain how this occurred?" Before Kurt could answer, Burt's eyes narrowed as he took in Squire Joshua – and only Squire Joshua. "Where's Blaine?"

Kurt swallowed. "He's in the tunnels."

Shaking his head in disbelief, King Burt stared hard at his son. "You sent him into the tunnels? What happened between when I left you and now – besides the obvious?"

"It was the safest place for him," Kurt insisted, unease creeping into his voice. "There were five assailants in total. Blaine would have been in the way. As it was, he was almost taken hostage."

"Almost?" replied the king.

"He fought back. Your Majesty," Squire Joshua answered before realizing who he was actually addressing and flushing. "Sir. He took the dirk I gave him and killed the man who had been holding a sword to his throat. After that he dove into the tunnel and pulled the cord. We were unable to follow him."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, King Burt took a moment to let that information sink in. "Of course not, Squire. That was the purpose of having those escape tunnels built in the first place. Alistair is in the royal quarters with the family and my advisors. Seek him out. He'll know where the spy master's maps of our escape tunnels might be. You have my permission to take a squad of guardsmen and seek out Duke Blaine and bring him to safety."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at his father. "And Your Majesty will be … _where_, exactly?"

A hardness dropped across Burt's features. "This has Smythe's handwriting all over it. Anderson is a pompous ass, but assassination and kidnapping isn't his style. He's too much of a coward and too worried about how he's perceived by others. If I have my way, Smythe won't live to see the morning sunrise."

Though fearful of his father's safety, Kurt knew his objections would fall on deaf ears. "Be safe, Father," he murmured, gripping his father's arm firmly.

"Do the same, please." King Burt smiled. "And go find my new Duke. I'm rather fond of him."

As his father walked away, Kurt called out, "I apologize for the mess I left in the hallway. I will make it up to the laundress and the floor maids once I find our new Duke."

"You know how she hates trying to rid the rugs of blood," King Burt called back over his shoulder.

"Couldn't be helped," Kurt insisted.

Four guardsmen remained behind to escort the prince and Squire Joshua to the royal quarters. Glancing at his Head Squire, Kurt motioned with his head that they should go. "You did remarkably well in your first test of battle. Do you feel up to continuing on, Squire?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the young man replied immediately.

"Then let's go find the Special Emissary and get your arm tended to so we can find Blaine."

* * *

The sounds of grunting and fists hitting flesh reached the knights' ears as they turned the corner. Glancing his men, Knight-Lieutenant Dave Karofsky took off at a run towards the barracks room at the end of the hall. Reaching the open door, it only took a moment to realize what was happening. Take three steps in, Sir Karofsky wrapped his arm around the neck of the young knight-trainee who was pummeling the man beneath him and hauled him backwards.

"**ENOUGH**!" Sir Dave shouted, startling everyone in the room. Eyes burning with rage he stabbed a finger at the boys holding the arms of the abused man. "Place him on his cot and leave. You will be dealt with later."

The young man with damaged knuckles stood in front of his Knight-Lieutenant, righteous indignation dripping from him. "We were … interrogating him. He **_is_** a Smythe after all."

Taking a step forward, Sir Dave leaned down into the trainee's space. "**_We_** don't act like _this_," he hissed. "_Ever_. If King Burt or the princes find out that you were here, treating a fellow trainee like this … you'll be on the next ship sailing across the ocean for parts unknown."

"But he's a Smythe-"

"He's your fellow trainee," Sir Dave growled, his voice become quieter as his anger continued to fester. "This is your last warning. Get out before I decide to discipline you myself."

Watching as the three cocky young men grumbled their way out of the room, Sir Dave gave a signal to his companions to follow behind. "Keep them out of further troubles," he murmured before turning to take in the mess that used to be Lord Sebastian Smythe. "I apologize for their behavior, my Lord."

Sebastian raised his face, but failed to meet the knight's gaze. "It's only Sebastian … sir. I have no title anymore. And I suppose I deserve such treatment, given my father's actions."

Quietly shutting the door, Karofsky pulled the wooden stool at the foot of the bed closer and sat down. "No one deserves such treatment. Although, in my youth, I would have taken matters in my own hands, much as they did. Still … I am charged with their training, and have clearly been remiss."

He took in the shaking of the former lord's hands, and the tears he was fighting back and something akin to sympathy formed in Dave's heart. "It's not that bad … being a part of the Royal Army," he spoke quietly. Remembering when he'd made his own choice to join gave Dave insight into what Sebastian was feeling.

Clearing his throat, Sir Dave spoke the words that had haunted him for so long. "There are _some_ who think we're only … unfeeling, imbecilic drones in need of a month-long bath before being presented in public.

A terrified look passed over Sebastian's face as he finally met Dave's eyes. "And perhaps you could not eat during that month to bring you down to a more manageable size," he whispered.

Sir Dave tipped his head to the side, a half-smile forming on his lips. "I've often wondered if you remembered our interaction. Truthfully, I'm not sure how I feel about it, now that I know that you do. Well, it makes no difference now. Get up. I'll take you to get cleaned up and some food. You're too much of a sitting duck in here right now." Standing, Sir Dave moved the stool back into place with the toe of his foot.

"I. I remember the words, but not the man," stammered Sebastian, still waiting for another physical blow. "We. we've met before?"

Karofsky held out a hand and when the young man failed to take it, reached down and gripped Sebastian's wrist, pulling him to his feet. "Twice. No, three times," he commented. At the Midsummer Festival years ago, at your father's Masquerade last year, and that night at the Dancing Bear," Sir Dave offered, mentioning a tavern frequented by men seeking the company of other men.

"My words were cruel," moaned Sebastian, clutching at his ribs as he took to his feet. "I apologize."

Resting a hand on the door knob, Sir Dave looked over his shoulder. "I accept your apology, my Lord."

Pressing his lips together in a thin line, Sebastian shook his head. "It's just Sebastian."

"You will never be _just_ anything," Sir Dave answered, staring at the wood grain in the door. "You'll train and learn and work harder than you ever have in your lifetime. You'll travel places and see horrors that no man should ever see. But even if someone were so inclined to try to beat the nobility out of you – they'd find that to be impossible. You **_are_** noble, Lord Sebastian Smythe. What we give you now is a way to decide what kind of noble blood you wish to become."

Dave startled when Lord Sebastian dropped a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed. "Thank you."

Nodding once, Dave replied, "You're welcome." Opening the door he stepped into the hallway, asking, "Shall we see if the cook has anything left over from the reception?" Not waiting for a response, he led the way through the cool hallways toward the kitchens.

"Shouldn't you be with the others, searching for my father and Duke Anderson?" Sebastian asked, finding it hard to keep up with the Knight-Lieutenant because of his injured ribs.

"I've been assigned to keep you under guard," Sir Dave answered taking a circular stone staircase down a level. "But my orders didn't say anything about not eating. One of the lessons you will learn rather quickly as a knight-trainee is to eat when you have the time because you never know when the next meal might come."

As they arrived at the kitchen door, Marley glanced up and gave Dave a harried smile. Pointing at two large wooden tables covered with platters of food she said breathlessly, "Anything there is fair game for the castle staff. Plates are stacked at the end of the table. You'll have to find your own places to sit and frankly your own drinks."

"Thank you Miss Marley," Sir Dave called watching her go back to directing the kitchen staff to bring various trays of food to various rooms in the castle where guests were now being kept under close watch. He chuckled quietly at her wave of acknowledgment which looked more like someone shooing a fly away.

After filling his plate and slipping several rolls into the pockets of his outercoat, Dave led Sebastian to a dining hall several rooms away. Other castle inhabitants not involved in the wedding sat eating their evening meal. Finding a place away from most of the others, Dave sat, motioning for Sebastian to do the same.

Once they'd eaten a fair bit, Dave put down his fork and knife. Studying the man across from him, Dave waited for him to chew his bite of food then asked, "Where do you think your father has gone? Do you have any idea what his plans might be?"

* * *

"_A torch. A torch or a lantern. A bloody candle would be nice_," Blaine muttered as he continued in darkness. He had no concept of time, given the complete pitch blackness that surrounded him. He could have been walking an hour or two or a day for all he knew. "_You could have put that next to the rope with a match or a nice piece of flint_."

Sighing loudly, Blaine stopped to rest for a moment. Since his tremendous spill earlier, he'd managed to only stumble, but not fall, twice. The narrow pathway seemed to be sloping gently downwards, although Blaine acknowledged to himself that it could just be the knock he took to his chin giving him this perception.

"_Maybe we should just lay down and take a nap_," he said to no one. "_No, Blaine, that's a rather daft idea. You'll wake up to find your toes have become a meal for Norbert and his rat family and given your luck so far, you'll wake up disoriented and travel back up the path you've just walked. No, no naps for us_."

"_You realize we're arguing with ourselves_," he groaned.

"_Well, it's either us or Norbert … and he's been rather silent on the matter. Which, frankly Norbert, is perfectly acceptable_." He giggled rather manically when he heard Norbert squeak a reply. "_Lovely. Norbert's answering me now_."

Heaving himself to his feet, Blaine continued on. "_Well, Norbert, it seems as if you are to be my second-in-command. Earl Norbert Ratt of Castle Hummel it is. You see, I've recently been made a duke, because the former duke, who just happens to be my father, was … __**is**__ a rather loathsome man. When he found out I preferred the company of men, he tried to force my marriage to an agreeable young woman who just tonight got married to Prince Finn. Yes, it is rather convoluted. Try to keep up."_

Running his fingers through his curls, Blaine continued. "_The prince – Prince Kurt – came to interview me about my marriage. Long story short, we invoked the Consent of King article. After that night, I returned home and several weeks later, Kurt rode in on his high horse and rescued me. I've been here in the castle since._"

"_The king decided to take action to address the issue of my father and Duke Smythe but they apparently escaped their guard. Other men were here in the castle waiting to do … well I'm actually not sure what, but one attacked me and I killed him. I've never killed a man before, Norbert. And I'm not sure how I feel about it – other than I'm thankful to be here on the side of the living_."

The hairs on the back of Blaine's neck stood up as his body perceived something unusual up ahead. Stopping in his tracks, Blaine opened his eyes to find the tunnel to be just as dark as before. Closing them again, he concentrated, trying to determine what had changed. Changing his grip on the dirk, Blaine tried to move as silently as possible. When a pebble skittered over the stone floor, Blaine realized what was different – the sound. Something was standing in his path.

Holding one hand out in front of him, Blaine raised the dirk to his ear, ready to lash out if needed. Deciding to use the element of surprise, if he had it, Blaine made a sudden rush forward – slamming himself, and the dirk, into a wooden door.


	39. A Crossroads of Sorts

Sebastian Smythe sat on an uncomfortable wooden stool, hands pressed between his knees and valiantly tried to keep up with the questions that continued to be shouted at him. He'd been under interrogation for the better part of four hours, if his time keeping was correct. Only this interrogation had yet to come to blows.

He wasn't sure how much longer that would continue.

Once Sword Master Bieste and Prince Finn had realized Sebastian was still in the castle, they'd found him in the lower kitchens and dragged him into this small room demanding to know what he knew. Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky had attempted to explain what Sebastian had already shared, but he'd been overwhelmingly shut down by his angry superiors.

At some point High Clerk Lopez and another Knight named Puckerman had joined the group, leaving little room for anyone to breathe. And truth be told, it was Lady Lopez that worried Sebastian the most – her cold, dark stare never wavering from him.

"Your Highness, I think you should take in to consideration that Smythe is still here in the castle, that no attempt was made to secure his release, and that he volunteered to join the King's Army rather than go with his father. If he'd made that choice, he'd certainly be free right now," argued Karofsky softly.

Prince Finn nearly snarled at the knight. "What do you know of it? This man and his father ruined my wedding, and now his father as escaped – providing an immediate and dangerous threat to my wife, to my family and to the stability of the kingdom."

Sebastian watched as Sir Dave closed his eyes and seemed to take a deep breath. "We've not learned anything new in hours, Your Highness."

"Maybe we just haven't used the right sort of persuasion," growled Finn, looming over Sebastian.

"You will not hurt him," Karofsky stated in a firm voice, staring down the Prince when he whirled around to glare.

"I will do whatever I deem necessary in order to protect the kingdom. And I find it rather ironic that you, of all people, would judge me – after the hell you put Kurt through." Finn continued to stare down his Knight-Lieutenant.

Sir Dave pushed himself away from the wall where he'd been leaning and took three steps towards Finn. "First, your brother has managed to forgive me for the trespasses of my young. I was a horrible, angry young man who heaped too much abuse on someone who least deserved it. And it's because of that – that I say you will not hurt Lord Smythe. We have to be better than our enemies, Your Highness. Your brother taught me that. We took an oath to serve those in need, those in trouble. To harm Smythe in your ill-thought out quest for information is to go against everything that the Knighthood stands for."

"If you don't like it, you can resign your commission," Finn growled.

"Fi-"

"-**STOP**," interrupted Lady Lopez. "While it is my opinion you might be being swayed by your personal emotions, Knight-Lieutenant, he does have a rather strong argument, Your Highness. We need to meet with Alistair and see what news we have on your father and Prince Kurt."

"Santana," protested Prince Finn.

Lady Lopez pointed one manicured finger at the prince. "You may be prince, but I am High Clerk. You dare not defy me, Prince Finn – the consequences will be swift and severe. Sword Master, we will assemble the King's Advisors in one hour's time. See that Prince Finn is in a more ... amicable mood."

Once the Sword Master, Prince Finn, and Sir Puckerman had left, Santana crossed her arms and gave Sir Dave an apprising look. "You will be responsible for Smythe. If he goes missing there will be hell to pay and _then_ you'll deal with me." With a swish of her skirts, Lady Lopez left the small room, leaving just Sebastian and Dave.

"If it makes you feel better, I have absolutely no plans to leave the castle – by escape or any other means," Sebastian allowed a small smirk to form, although he felt little humor in the situation he was in.

Sir Dave let out a short chuckle. "Thank you, I think. I mean, if you were planning an escape, would you tell me?"

Raising a hand to scratch his head, Sebastian thought honestly about the question and then shrugged. "Maybe? I can be an arrogant jackass – so bragging that I was going to escape might be something I would do. But then again, it'd be stupid to warn you. Then you'd never drop your guard."

Nodding to himself, Dave motioned for Sebastian to stand up, covering a yawn with his fist. "I don't know when the last time you slept was, but I'm due for a few hours of shut-eye. C'mon, we're going to get some rest."

"_We_?" Sebastian asked, cocking his head to the side.

"You heard the High Clerk," Dave replied walking through the doorway. "I'm responsible for you. So **_we_** will go to my room for a long nap. I figure, if nothing else, I can tie you to the bed post to make sure you don't leave while I'm asleep"

"Tying me up, Sir Karofsky? I don't usually enjoy such adventures with men I barely know," countered Sebastian before his head caught up with his mouth.

Without warning Sebastian found himself pressed up against the wall, hands held tightly in one of Sir Dave's above his head. It stole his breath as Dave's eyes burned into his.

"Strictly speaking, my Lord," Sir Dave murmured, bringing their foreheads together, "as your soon-to-be commanding officer, we're not allowed to become involved."

Sputtering, Sebastian shook his head against the stone wall. "I didn't … I wasn't …"

"Of course not," Dave muttered, yanking himself away and hurrying down the hallway, leaving Sebastian to rush behind, feeling an emptiness he couldn't name.

* * *

"For the love of all that is holy, Alistair, where the hell is the bolt hole?" Kurt grumbled, holding a map of the castle across his saddle as the snow came down in a continuous fall. He reached out and moved Joshua's arm up so that the lantern's light would fall across the map.

Prince Kurt and Joshua rode with six other Knights of the Royal Army in a quest to find Duke Blaine. He'd officially been missing for eight hours – the lightening of the gloomy grey sky a reminder the sun was fighting to make her daily appearance. When he'd sent Blaine in, Kurt had had no idea that the passageway behind King Aidan's statue led three miles from the castle into the royal forest.

Making matters more complicated, the landmarks on the map were over a hundred years old. No one had thought to update them since the castle had been built. "The river on the map is there." Kurt pointed to his right, before reading the map again. "That's this mark here," he said, tracing the line. "There should be three large boulders and a circular grove of oak trees. I realize the snow is probably covering the boulders, but where is this grove of trees?"

His arm tiring, Squire Joshua lowered the lantern. "Your Highness, if it was a grove of oak trees in the royal forest – who's to say it wasn't cut down years ago for the wood. Oak is a popular wood for furniture making. And we do seem to have many oak chairs at the castle."

Grumbling, Kurt rolled the map back up and slid it into a holder on his saddle. "Great. So then we're down to these three boulders next to the river – that are probably completely covered with snow. Blaine's going to be frozen to death before we reach him."

"Your Highness," called one of the Knights. "As boys growing up, we often came down to this river to swim during the spring and summer. There's a large swimming hole, just up the bend with three large rocks we'd climb and then jump off. Depending on what time of year the mapmaker made this map … or what kind of rainfall the kingdom had that year … it's possible the rocks weren't in the river, but next to it."

Taking a deep breath, Kurt nodded. "It's the best lead we have right now. Let's go."


	40. To Serve a King

A/N: Did you miss me? I've missed you. Are you the type of person who goes back and reads a chapter or two prior before reading the new chapter? Sometimes I am. That might be a good thing in this case. Otherwise, just go with it. Trust in the process.

* * *

Finding himself at home in his father's manor, Blaine felt more than a little off-balance. Leaves skittered across the cobblestones that lined the front walkway as Blaine kept watch from a window in the sitting room. When he was unable to keep his knee from bouncing with nervous energy, Blaine jumped up from his seat and moved to stoke the fire.

"I'm sure the king will allow our marriage to go forward," Lady Rachel murmured from her position on the settee.

Startled by her presence, Blaine glanced over his shoulder at her, noting how she had carefully placed a small pillow in her lap to cover the otherwise noticeable bump created by a baby that wasn't his, but would be raised as the Anderson heir. Swallowing around his dry mouth, Blaine nodded.

"I'm sure you are correct, Lady Rachel. If he _were_ to raise concerns, I cannot fathom what they might be. Are you comfortable? May I bring you something? A drink? Perhaps a throw to keep you warm?"

Her reply was interrupted by the opening of the door as their fathers strode inside. Duke Anderson wasted no time, first driving his fist into Blaine's stomach and then, as Blaine instinctively collapsed, wrapping his arms around his middle, landing a second punch to Blaine's kidney.

"You will do whatever it takes, Blaine. Whatever. It. Takes. Or I will make a eunuch of you myself," growled the Duke.

From his knees on the floor, Blaine nodded, vigorously trying to keep the content of his stomach in place as he blinked away the tears of pain. He and Rachel had agreed to the machinations of their parents – agreeing to a marriage neither wanted in order to cover up for sins they'd both committed.

When the waves of pain faded to a bearable throb, Blaine stood and limped over to Rachel, taking her hand. He would do his best to convince the king they were truly in love.

* * *

In his next moment of awareness, the king appeared, standing over Blaine while he clutched Lady Rachel's hand. Stunning in his soft grey hose, and deep midnight blue riding coat, encrusted with sapphires and blue diamonds, the king gripped Blaine's chin between his thumb and forefinger, a contemplative look upon his face.

Meeting the king's gaze fearlessly, Blaine reflected that he'd never seen eyes the particular shade possessed by King Kurt.

"Leave us," commanded the king in a low, level voice.

When Rachel and their fathers began to protest, King Kurt turned, never letting go of Blaine's chin. "You asked for a Writ of Marriage. I will interview Lord Anderson alone, or there will be none granted," he replied coldly.

Blaine watched the king's guardsmen herd the silenced hoard out of the room, shutting it behind them with a loud click.

"Lord Anderson."

"Your Majesty."

Frozen in place as the king ran his thumb over Blaine's lower lip, pressing down gently before slipping it inside, Blaine fought his inclinations to no avail. Without his consent, his tongue drifted around the king's thumb, suckling softly. The king gazed down at him with smoldering eyes, and Blaine, feeling the flush spread across his face and neck, allowed his eyelids to flutter shut.

The rustling of cloth met Blaine's ears and then the king's thumb slipped away, a small whimper of disappointment escaping his plump lips. There was a brief, warm chuckle from the king before something warmer, and harder, brushed against his lips, seeking entrance.

"I hear a situation much like this is what brings me out to visit you, Lord Anderson," the king rumbled. "And while I'd very much like to see those rosy lips wrapped around my cock, you've requested to marry Lady Rachel, which makes me curious as to where your true desires reside. Are you the ever-faithful fiancé desperately in love with that twit, or are you ready to serve your king?"

Running his tongue over his lips wantonly, Blaine anxiously prepared to attend to his king.

* * *

Inside the king's private quarters, Blaine sat on the edge of the massive bed, waiting.

His father and Rachel's fathers had been livid when he'd emerged from the sitting room with the king, Blaine's lips swollen and hair and clothing askew. Without a word, King Kurt had slipped his hand into Blaine's and strode out of the front door, helping Blaine up into the saddle of his horse before departing for the castle.

The entire ride to the castle, King Kurt had whispered filthy words, painted lurid images of what his intentions were once they reached the safety of the castle. At the same time, his fingers danced across the front of Blaine's trousers, and eventually underneath as well. While he'd been embarrassed at first because of the proximity of the guardsmen, eventually Blaine gave himself over to the King's ministrations –-unconcerned at the sounds he couldn't possibly contain.

He'd been escorted to the bedroom, where the king had left him with a clipped demand to "stay here" before turning and leaving.

A side door opened, and the king entered, not stopping his stride until he'd pulled Blaine from his seat and engaged him in a hard kiss. Breaking apart, he nipped Blaine's ear lobe hard, bringing a sharp hiss from him. "Let's count your offenses against the crown, shall we?"

"Your Majesty?" Blaine sputtered, finding it difficult to follow the conversation as the king began rhythmically digging his fingers into the globes of Blaine's ass.

"You were going to lie to me, my Lord. You were going to pretend you wanted to marry that silly little twit. Lying to the crown carries a steep punishment. Not as steep as marrying that girl would have been for someone who enjoys a cock as much as you do, but still. I can't have my subjects thinking they don't have to be honest with me."

The king slipped his fingers into the waistband of Blaine's trousers and tugged them down until they rested just under Blaine's plump ass. Grasping Blaine's arm above the elbow, the king spun him around and shoved, sprawling Blaine across the comforter. "Your-"

Blaine's yelp of surprise turned into a groan of pleasure as the king landed three smart slaps against his naked flesh. He felt the bed move under him as the king leaned over him, lips brushing against his ear.

"You aren't supposed to enjoy your punishment this much, Lord Anderson."

"I don't think I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he rejoined. Face muffled by the mattress, Blaine may have hitched his hips up slightly, wriggling his ass in a silently plea for more attention. The king squeezed his ass cheeks before sliding his hands up under Blaine's shirt. When he glided his palms over the spot his father had hit earlier, Blaine let out a sharp yelp, twisting away.

It took mere minutes for King Kurt to have him stripped, both physically and emotionally, as Blaine recounted the abuse he'd suffered at his father's hands. The king's warm hands skimmed over his body, noting where the fresh bruising, and the bruising that had yellowed with age, lay.

He rolled off the bed and strode to the door where he spoke quietly with someone before shutting the door and locking it behind him. As he walked back across the room, King Kurt stripped off his clothing so that by the time he returned to Blaine' side, he was as naked as the young lord.

Arranging himself against the pillows at the head of the bed, the king remarked, "I'll be careful of your injuries, Lord Anderson, but we'll be continuing with your punishment. Arrange yourself across my lap."

Taking a deep breath, Blaine crawled to the king, who claimed another languid kiss before allowing Blaine to stretch across his lap. The king took his time turning Blaine's ass a flaming red as Blaine writhed in his lap, greedy sounds of pleasure spilling from his lips.

Tossing pillows into the middle of the bed, King Kurt helped Blaine rearrange himself, ass prominently on display. Shivering from the anticipation, as well as the chill in the air, Blaine's pucker twitched when the king drizzled oil down his crack. His long, thick cock nudged its way between Blaine's cheeks as the king draped himself over Blaine's back.

"M. Majesty," keened Blaine when the head of King Kurt's cock caught on his entrance.

"You were going to lie to me," grunted King Kurt. "You'd give this up for fucking Lady Berry?"

"I. N. No. I'm sorry, Your Majesty." Blaine clutched frantically at the sheets as the king drove him closer to the edge. "_Please_." He held his breath as the king's cock pressed firmly against his entrance until the moment that his body finally allowed the king inside in one slow, smooth glide. Blaine whimpered when the king's thighs rubbed against the heated flesh of his ass..

King Kurt fisted a hand in Blaine's curls, and leaning over his body, growled out, "Please fuck me, Your Majesty."

"Please let me spend, Your Majesty," Blaine begged, rocking back on the king's cock.

"Maybe _that_ should be part of your punishment," Kurt murmured, nibbling on Blaine's neck and shoulders. "Maybe I should devote the next week fucking you and your delicious mouth and never letting you peak."

"God yes. No." Blaine's voice raised in pitch as Kurt slammed into him again and again. "Yes to the fucking. No to the not letting me spend. _Please, Your Majesty_."

"I'll need to keep you naked in my offices. That way, while I'm sorting out the kingdom's business, I can bend you over my desk and fuck you. Or have you on your knees, sucking my cock while I deal with the diplomats and courtiers."

* * *

Consciousness crept up on Blaine and immediately made him want to tug the blanket of sleep back into place and finish his dream of Kurt. Curled up in a ball, he vaguely remembered making it outside the gravely wounded wooden door, only to have it slam shut, locking him out of the tunnel. His relief at reaching the end was short-lived when he realized he was surrounded by darkness and snow with no way to return to shelter and no idea which way to begin walking back to the castle. Rather than expending energy he didn't have, or injuring his knee further, Blaine had tucked himself against the tunnel door and allowed his eyelids to drift shut.

Blinking slowly, Blaine looked around and realized it must be morning given the chirping of the birds and the fact he could see the snow drifts that surrounded him. It was then he grasped just how cold he'd become in the hours he'd slept.

Groaning at the effort it took, Blaine pushed to his feet, stretching the kinks from sleeping on the ground out of his body. Testing his knee and finding it a bit better than the night before, Blaine decided his best bet would be to begin to search for a landmark or even a building he could take refuge in until he could warm himself.

"**BLAINE**!"

Whipping around, Blaine spotted Kurt and several other guardsmen atop a nearby hill. Holding up his hand, Blaine waved and hurried as best he could, with his knee and the snow drifts, in their direction.

Maneuvering his horse through the snow, Kurt continued to call out, "We've been looking for you forever. You're almost three miles from the castle proper. We need to get you back and war-"

A loud cracking noise ripped through the air, interrupting Kurt's words.

"DON"T MOVE!" shouted Joshua, who threw himself down from his horse and rushed to the prince, violently yanking him backwards.

"Joshua!" shrieked Kurt in anger and confusion.

"Duke Anderson, it's imperative you don't move." Joshua held out his hands in a universal sign to stop. Looking back towards his prince, Joshua explained, "He's on the river. The snow's covering the ice and there's no way to know how thick it is. Judging from the snapping and crackling – it's thin. Too thin."

While Kurt's squire may have lowered his voice in order not to panic Blaine, he could still hear the words. And he could still feel the icy water as it began to soak his boots.


	41. What Type of Man I've Become

**A/N**: It's like weaving a tapestry. Picked up some loose threads and working them in to the pattern. Thank you to my cheerleaders who always have something nice to say when I post. Health-wise I am doing well and I'm nearly caught up at work ... and with the laundry, so I'm spending the day writing. Woo!

* * *

Wiping the palm of his hand down his face, King Burt sighed deeply. Despite his feelings that Timmons Anderson served as a prime example of arrogance and snobbery, Burt dreaded the moment when he would have to explain to Blaine that his father was dead – killed because he'd swung his sword with the intent to remove Burt's head from his shoulders.

It had been quick. There was _that_.

Leaning against the stone and dirt wall of the extensive wine cellar underneath Smythe Manor, Burt took his time cleaning his sword with a rag one of his guardsmen had handed him. The cold seeped into his soul.

Two knights stooped to cover Anderson's body with bedding that had clearly been appropriated from an upstairs bedroom. Before they could ask, Burt instructed, "Take the body to the priests for burial. They can find a place for our former Duke in the general cemetery amongst the people he stood on top of his entire life."

Turning his head to the right, Burt beckoned two of his youngest guardsmen over. "Send to the King's Wine Steward come here forthwith. Any bottles he feels would command a substantial price, he should have sold – the money donated to those who need it most. Tell him to send fifty bottles of good quality wine to the barracks with my thanks. Anything else – ask the city guard who could use it the most. Distribute it as they see fit. The same with any stores of food. There should be no hungry bellies in my kingdom for the next week or two."

The edge of one of the guardsmen's smile lifted. "You've not seen Smythe's storehouses, Your Majesty. We'll be able to feed the hungry for a month or more," he said enthusiastically.

Sliding his sword back into its sheath, King Burt shared a small smile. "It pleases me to know that some good will come of this. Also, I'd like you, personally, to return to the castle and seek out knight-trainee Sebastian Smythe and inquire if there is any property he'd like set aside for him. Then, inform the High Clerk that everything inside here is to be auctioned off. I'll speak with her regarding where the monies raised should go."

With affirmative nods, the guardsmen moved away to do the king's bidding.

"Your Majesty?" came a timid voice.

Burt turned to the squire who'd climbed down the wooden stairs into the wine cellar and blanched at the sight of the covered body and the pool of blood. "Yes, Squire Benjamin?"

Fighting to keep his eyes steady on the king's, the squire's voice trembled as he gave his report. "Smythe escaped, Sir. There are trackers in pursuit – but Lieutenant Scott wanted you to know that he's still out there."

"Understood. Dismissed." Burt followed the lanky squire, climbing steep wooden steps up into the Smythe Manor proper. It's where they'd found both former dukes and their wives along with a few loyal servants. The men had left their wives sitting in the parlor while they'd made a run for it. Apparently Smythe had succeeded. For now.

Striding through the doorway to the parlor, King Burt narrowed his eyes, studying the two women who'd made unfortunate choices in mates. "Bind them. We'll return to the castle where they can sit under house arrest until we capture Smythe and my good humor returns. I'm not so foolish as to think you ladies had no knowledge of what your husbands had planned."

"What have you done with my husband?" asked the former Duchess Anderson shrilly.

Devoid of any sympathy, King Burt raised an eyebrow at the woman. "He chose to attack me. If I'd been any slower, he would have succeeded in taking my life. _His_ was forfeit as soon as he made his move."

Shaking his head, King Burt lowered his voice. "You and Elizabeth were good friends, once. That is the one thing keeping your pale neck out of a hangman's noose at the moment. Your son has inherited your husband's title. You have nothing, Paulina. Nothing. Blaine might be kind enough to settle you with some sort of endowment so you don't become destitute, forced to live on the streets for the rest of your life. He's a good man, like that. If I were in your shoes, I'd be reflecting on whether I treated my son well enough that he'd _want_ to care for the woman who gave birth to him."

"Take them away," he commanded.

* * *

Sebastian awoke with the certainty he wasn't in his own bed. The sheets that surrounded him were of a sub-standard weave and the room itself was colder than his father's servants would have allowed. His father … who was now on the run from the king and his knights. A knighthood that Sebastian had chosen to join, rather than being imprisoned for his crimes against Lord Blaine Anderson. **_Duke_** Blaine Anderson if the gossip around the kitchens was to be believed.

"Morning," came a raspy voice from the other side of the bed.

Pulling the blanket down enough that his eyes peeped out, Sebastian found Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky studying him intently. "Good morning … Sir." Sebastian figured it was better to get into the habit of addressing his superior officers in the correct form as soon as possible. "How did you know I was awake?"

The corners of Karofsky's mouth pulled up as if he were fighting a smile. "Your breathing changed. The kitchen sent up a tray so we might break our fast. I'll ring for some hot tea when you're ready to get out of bed."

Twisting so he could see over his shoulder, Sebastian noted that there was indeed a tray on the wooden desk near the window. "What time is it?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"Nearly ten," Dave answered, propping his head up on a hand. "I couldn't tell you, under pain of torture, the last time I lazed in bed so long. It all likelihood, it was before I joined the guard."

Groaning at the thought of having to get up so early for the rest of his newly chosen career, Sebastian buried his face in the pillow. "So why today?" he mumbled into the pillow.

"No one has bothered to summon me to whatever needs the attention of a Knight-Lieutenant. Probably most people are sleeping off the effects of the wedding reception. Or looking for our newest Duke. I was tasked with watching you – and since you were asleep, I took advantage of the situation," Dave explained quietly.

When Dave's word filtered through, Sebastian raised up on his elbows. "Looking for … Blaine? What happened?"

Dave's face lost all vestiges of humor as he explained about Blaine's escape from the men sent to kidnap him, or worse. "Kurt is out looking for him now. He'll not come back without Blaine."

Biting his lower lip, Sebastian stared at the pillow for a long moment, gathering the courage to ask Dave a question he feared he already knew the answer to. Eyes flickering to meet Dave's, Sebastian asked, "And they still think my father is behind this?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Sighing deeply, Sebastian rolled over onto his back, and stared at the wood beams running across the ceiling of Dave's quarters. "Do you get along with your father? Did you when you were a boy?" he asked softly.

Dave rolled onto his back, sliding over until his shoulder brushed Sebastian's. Both of them were still dressed in undershirts and shorts, despite Sebastian's suggestions the night before that they ditch their clothing altogether. Feeling hesitant, Dave brushed his fingertips against Sebastian's before finally intertwining their fingers lightly. "My mother passed when I was four. It's always been the two of us. We've had a few arguments when I was a hard-headed adolescent, but I've always known he supported me. Loved me.

Sebastian swallowed audibly. "That must be … _nice_."

Tightening his hold on Sebastian's hand slightly, Dave rolled his head so he could look at the former lord. "I take it you don't have an amicable relationship with yours?"

Sebastian let out an undignified snort. "My father needed an heir. Not a son."

Running his thumb soothingly across Sebastian's hand, Dave asked, "How did he take the news you prefer men to women?"

Shrugging, Sebastian turned to face Dave fully, keeping ahold of his hand. "Now there's a tale. He had the misfortune of disturbing me while I was trysting with one of the servants in our stable. I was fifteen. He had me beaten. But not for why you might think."

Taking a deep breath, Sebastian let out a disbelieving chuckle. "I was summoned to his office, where I stood in front of him, my ass in flames from the wooden switch his footman used to beat me, and listened to him rant about how dishonorable and distasteful it was for me to fuck beneath my status_. I was a Smythe_, after all. There were _plenty_ of young lords of breeding who I could stick my little cock in if that is what I wanted to do, but fucking the help was abominable. He was livid I'd fucked someone beneath my status – but other than that, he couldn't care less."

When Dave lifted his hand to caress his cheek, Sebastian closed his eyes and savored the contact. After a moment, he asked, "Do you think I'll survive the training?"

The bed shook from Dave's chuckle. "If you learn to keep your mouth shut, you'll manage."

Mouth pulling up on one side, Sebastian complained, "That's no fun."

Rolling his eyes, Dave reached up and ran his fingers through Sebastian's hair. "Neither is having your ass handed to you in the training yard when you piss off your commanding officer. You'll want to avoid that as much as possible."

Leaning his body into Dave's, Sebastian ran his hand down Dave's side, resting it on his hip. "What if I discover, sadly, that's the only way I can get you near my ass? Because of this strange concept of honor you seem to want to hold yourself to?"

"Sebastian," huffed Dave.

Slipping his fingers between Dave's shirt and shorts, Sebastian slid them across the warm flesh. "I know, I know. Commanding officer. _Blah, blah, blah_."

Dave flopped back onto his back dropping an arm across his eyes. "It's not just the honor or the oath, Sebastian. And both of those are good enough reasons. It could become dangerous to become involved if we went into battle together. But beyond that ... I'm attracted to you. I'll not deny that. And I'll assume, for the moment, that you're attracted to me – though I'm not convinced you're not just looking for your newest conquest. But I'm not looking for … a quick fuck."

Knowing Sebastian was about to reply with some quick witted retort, Dave covered the man's mouth with this hand. "I know what you're going to say, and I'm not looking for a lengthy fuck either. I want more. I want to settle down, not settle. And you, Lord Sebastian Smythe, don't seem to me to be the settling down type." Lifting his hand away, Dave waited.

The bed shifted underneath him a moment before Sebastian threw a leg across Dave and settled down to straddle his hips. Without conscious thought, Dave's hands gripped Sebastian's hips as the other man leaned over him and cupped the sides of his face with his long fingers.

"It's just Sebastian, _Sir_. And I didn't think I was the joining the knighthood type, yet here I am. I'd say you don't know me very well … but I'm not sure how well I know myself. So I've decided I'm going to prove to you, and myself, that I can survive this knighthood training. And when I succeed … then we're going to find someplace private, and decide what type of man I've become."

Sebastian slowly leaned down towards Dave, giving him a chance to resist. But he couldn't. In fact, it was Dave who pulled him in tightly as their lips met for the first time.

* * *

End Note: I'm going to go rescue Blaine from that icy river now. Have a happy, restful Sunday.


	42. Our Illustrious SpyMaster

Huddled under a scratchy wool blanket, Blaine cupped a large mug of ginger tea in his hands as the kitchen staff bustled around him, preparing the next meal for the castle.

After being saved from falling through the ice on the river by the quick thinking of Squire Joshua, Kurt had hurried Blaine up onto his horse, and ridden hard towards the castle, leaving the others to follow behind. One of the stable hands had taken Kurt's horse without comment as Kurt had rushed his exhausted and frozen lover into the castle.

Blaine was surprised when Kurt led him into the kitchens, rather than up into his bed chambers. He'd been deposited onto the wooden bench of the table closest to the cooking fire before Kurt, without a word, left for parts unknown. Marley had been the one to bring Blaine the blanket; her mother, the mug of tea.

As soon as he was able to feel his fingers, Blaine had plans to work his feet free from his soaked boots. Taking a long sip from the mug, he smiled at the warmth the ginger brought to his stomach.

"Would you like some honey with that, Your Grace?" asked Marley, dipping in a hurried curtsy.

Frowning, Blaine looked up into her eyes. "I'll have none of that '_Your Grace'_ from you, Marley. You may address me as Blaine, or '_my lord'_. '_Your Grace_' and '_Duke Anderson_' reminds me too much of the bitter memories of my father. It will take some time before I'm able to make the adjustment," he commented gruffly.

Placing the small honey pot in front of Blaine, Marley have his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're nothing like him, my lord. And I am so pleased that you've returned safely. I was so worried when the news came that you were missing in the castle's tunnels."

"Thank you." Blaine used the honey drizzler to add a touch of sweetness to his tea. "I wasn't totally alone in there."

Cocking her head to the side, Marley lifted her eyebrows, awaiting Blaine's story.

"Yes, believe it or not, I was kept company by one Earl Norbert Ratt. I can't tell you what he looked like, because it was completely dark in those tunnels, but I heard him skittering beside me plenty. Not much of a conversationalist, I have to say." Blaine's mouth pulled up at the corner as Marley hid her giggles behind her apron.

Her mother interrupted, placing a large bowl of steaming stew in front of him. "Eat up, young man. It will help warm you faster if you do it from the inside and the out."

"Thank you." Blaine glanced at the stew and back up in an instant. "How did you know?"

Marley's mother waved a towel at Blaine. "Your father's staff came to work here, remember? Your cook worked here in the kitchens long enough to make sure her staff was settled before returning to where she grew up in the southern regions of the kingdom. She shared a few of your favorite recipes before she went – including your favorite chicken and tomato stew. You're just lucky we canned fresh tomatoes this past autumn."

Using a fork to break apart the chunks of chicken, Blaine scooped a mouthful up savoring the bold, spicy flavors as they burst across his tongue. "**_So_** good," he moaned around his fork.

"They found you._"_

Snapping his head up from the stew, Blaine met the eyes of Sebastian Smythe who stood behind Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky, looking over his shoulder. "They did," Blaine replied coolly, not dropping his gaze as he continued to stare down Smythe while eating his meal.

It was Sebastian who broke the eye contact, suddenly finding the stone floor to be the most intriguing part of the kitchen. "I'm … I'm glad that you are all right. Your Grace," Sebastian added quietly.

Blaine had no idea of whether or not Sebastian was sincere in his words, and frankly, didn't really care. But since they'd both be living in the castle for the foreseeable future, Blaine decided to err on the side of politeness. "Thank you. It was an adventure I'd prefer not to repeat. Ever."

Shortly thereafter, Blaine found himself joined at the table by Smythe and Karofsky who had helped themselves to some of the chicken stew. Before he could give warning, both of them had scooped large mouthfuls into their mouths – followed by twin looks of desperation.

"Marley!" called Blaine over the din of the kitchen. "Do you have two glasses of milk to spare?" Shaking his head, Blaine stood up and went to the nearby water pitcher, pouring the men glasses of water in the meantime. Handing them over, he explained, "The milk will cut the pain. Sorry. It's probably more heavily spiced that either of you are used to."

Karofsky had managed to swallow his mouthful and drank down the entire glass of water in one long gulp. Looking at the floor, he asked, "Why are you still in your wet boots, Your Grace?"

Blaine sighed heavily at Karofsky's use of his title, trying to tamp down his feelings of anger and resentment towards his father. "I couldn't feel my fingers when we got here therefore I couldn't unlace them."

As Marley slid two glasses of milk on the table, Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky bent over to begin the arduous process of undoing the wet laces. "One of the first things you learn as a trainee is to keep your feet warm and dry. As much as possible. Even when that means asking someone to help you. This was dangerous, Your Grace."

"I didn't intend to leave him this long," came Kurt's explanation as the prince strode back into the kitchen, "but … other things required my attention first." Prince Kurt was followed by High Clerk Lopez, and another man, unknown to Blaine, who rolled in on a chair that had been modified to have wheels.

"So you left him here to dry off, but didn't think to remove his boots?" asked an incredulous Karofsky. "You know exactly what can happen in a situation such as this –nothing should have required your attention more than His Grace."

Closing his eyes, Kurt blew air through his nose in frustration that was pointed only at himself. "It was an oversight. One I shouldn't have made, you are correct. Thank you for seeing to Blaine."

Pulling off the second of Blaine's boots, Karofsky stood so he could place them closer to the fire to dry out. "Any news?" he asked Kurt. Returning to the table, he took a seat on the bench next to Sebastian letting his knee fall against Sebastian's.

High Clerk Lopez sat on a wooden bench on the other side of Sebastian and folded her hands in front of her. "The king has sent back orders to have the items in the Smythe Manor sold. We're making arrangements to see to his request." Turning her head to address Sebastian, she added, "His Majesty would like to know if there is anything you value that you would like brought to the castle."

They could all see as the color leeched from Sebastian's face. "Um … there's a sailor's trunk and its contents. It's at the foot of my bed. Maybe some of the clothing from my closet. I have two pairs of newish boots that I'd like to have. And the pillow with the lilac pillow case. That's all I would ask for." Sebastian laid down his spoon, no longer hungry.

"I could go-" Karofsky began.

"No," interrupted Lady Lopez. "You're needed here. We need you to continue to stay with Sebastian."

"I'm not going anywhere," protested Sebastian, looking between Prince Kurt and Lady Santana. "I had no idea what my father had planned. I don't know where he's going. I have no desire to flee to go be with him. Why won't you believe me?"

"You've not earned our trust," Kurt answered bluntly. "Unfortunately, your reputation and your prior actions are all we have to go on right now. If you want our trust, you'll have to earn it. When you wear the title of 'Knight' it means that every man and woman who serves with you can trust you to have his or her back. That you would willingly die, without hesitation, for any of them. And frankly, all I see is a man who tried to force himself on another man – which forced him to seek a marriage with my blessed sister-in-law."

Kurt bent down to look Sebastian in the eye. "So, not only do you need to earn my trust as a knight-trainee, but you also are faced with the epic battle of making me forget that you had every intention of taking that which was not freely given. From. The. Man. I. Love."

Swallowing around his dry throat, Sebastian bit his lower lip, realizing the prince wasn't a man to be trifled with. "Perhaps it would be better for everyone if I went to the labor camps. At least if I were there, you'd know that if I attempted escape my life would be forfeit."

"It would be here as well, if you did attempt escape," rasped Karofsky. "And no, the labor camps are not a better option."

The clearing of a throat, brought everyone's attention to the man in the wheeled chair. "Trainee Smythe, we need you to stay close at hand. Preferably within the Knight-Lieutenant's sight. Your father was found at his former estate, and yet managed to elude the King's Army a second time. I know you have already spoken with Lady Lopez and Prince Finn. That said, I have my own questions for you. If you could escort him to my office, David, when you're done here."

"Yes, Lord Abrams," Karofsky replied.

When Lord Abrams had left the room, Sebastian nudged Karofsky with his elbow. "Father made me memorize every member of the peerage when I was old enough for formal schooling. Who exactly is Lord Abrams?"

It was Prince Kurt who answered.

"That, Trainee Smythe, is our illustrious Spymaster."


	43. Existence

A/N: The good news is that my absence is only do to being overloaded at work. Better news: I should be reducing my work load within three weeks. Yay! More writing time. I've been piecing this together paragraph by paragraph for over a month. We are getting close to the end of this section - not the story just the section. I hope you enjoy! k8

* * *

Without a word, Marley stole Blaine's bowl of chicken stew from his stiff fingers, and refilled it. Another pot of ginger tea was laid before him, and the others who were still sitting around the kitchen table allowed him to listen to their quiet conversation while he filled his stomach.

The change in the noise level around them seeped through his inner thoughts, and he looked up, trying to ascertain what was causing it. Both Kurt and Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky shoved to their feet as Blaine caught a glimpse of King Burt wending his way through the crowded kitchen, made more difficult by the staff members who kept bowing or dropping into curtsies in front of him.

Reaching the table where his son and Duke Blaine Anderson sat, King Burt waved the knights back into their seats and let out a quiet groan as he took a seat across from Blaine. "At least they had accurate information on _your_ location," he gruffed, eyeing Blaine closely.

Seeing Marley approach, King Burt pointed towards Blaine's bowl and announced, "I'll have whatever Duke Anderson is eating along with some cold ale. And half a loaf of whatever fresh baked bed your mother has hidden away."

"Father-" Kurt began to protest softly.

"**_Father_** has had quite the day. And night. Followed by another day of the same vile, putrid muck. So if _Father_ wants food and a drink of his choosing, then _Father_ will have that meal without hearing a damn word from his son or wife." Burt worked at loosening the tension in his jaw before meeting Kurt's worried gaze. "How stands my castle?"

King Burt listened intently as both Kurt and Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky filled him in on what had taken place in the last twenty-four hours or so. It felt like a week since Prince Finn had stood on the dais with Lady Rachel pledging his vows.

"We'll need to meet with my advisors and decide where we go from here. Smythe is still a danger to the well-being of the country and, frankly, to the safety of the royal family. You'll make sure the Sword Master knows I want body guards on every member of the family until such time as Smythe no longer presents a threat to us," he shared, looking direction at Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky.

"Yes Sir," Karofsky replied.

Taking a deep breath, King Burt turned his attention to Blaine. "We found your father at Smythe's Manor. He made the unfortunate choice of drawing his sword and making to attack the king."

Kurt hissed loudly, pressing the palms of his hands into the wooden table.

"Yes, well, thankfully the king still keeps up with his sword training," King Burt continued without missing a beat. "Timmons Anderson is no longer among the living. Your father paid for his treason with his life, Blaine. I'm sorry to be the bearer of this news."

Blaine broke eye contact with his king while he considered the words. His father. Dead. "And my mother?"

King Burt accepted a bowl of stew from Marley and scooped up a spoonful. "She's here in the castle. Under arrest. Until such time as we make a decision what should happen with her." Swallowing the stew, King Burt continued, unbothered by the spiciness. "In making you Duke, I stripped her of any access to wealth or means to take care of herself. You'll need to consider what you would like to happen to her over the next several weeks. Until Smythe is found, both former Duchesses are to remain here."

Using his spoon to gesture between Blaine and Sebastian, King Burt remarked, "Both of you will be allowed in to see your mothers should you wish. You, with supervision," he added, glancing at Sebastian.

Shaking his head, Sebastian spat out, "The woman you're holding isn't my mother." He could feel everyone turn to stare at him so he latched on to the one person he trusted. Looking at Dave, Sebastian explained, "My mother was some house maid my father may or may not have forced himself on. When I was born, his wife threw her out of the manor and presented me to the world as her own. Privately, though, she never let me forget I was the son of some whoring girl with no money and no name."

King Burt noted how Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky reached across the table and took Sebastian Smythe's hand in his own while Blaine spoke of having no desire to see or speak with his mother at this time.

"Your Highness?" Karofsky said, standing up and tugging on Sebastian's hand. "Lord Abrams requested to speak with Trainee Smythe. I'd like to take him there now, unless you have further questions for him."

Nodding, King Burt waved the two men off. Looking at his son and newest Duke, Burt offered a wry smile. "What's on your appointment calendar today?"

Blaine scratched his head. "Sleep, Your Highness. Sleep. A bath. More food. More sleep. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. Or the next day."

Signaling Marley to bring further stew, King Burt took a long drink of the ale. "I think I'd like to accomplish something much the same. After I meet with my advisors. Kurt? I'll need you for the next hour or so. Perhaps you can use that time for that bath, Blaine. And more food. This is excellent stew."

Kurt stood slowly. "I'm going to escort Blaine back to my quarters. I'll meet you in your office in a quarter hour."

"That's not necessary," Blaine murmured, moving to stand and swaying in place.

"It is necessary," Kurt insisted, wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist. "Prince still outranks Duke. You're still in danger. You're still the man I love. I'll walk you to our quarters and make sure the guards have a full understanding of exactly what will happen if they lose our newest Duke again."

Chuckling to himself, Burt smiled as Kurt escorted Blaine out of the kitchen.

"There'll be another wedding soon enough," remarked Marley's mother who refilled the king's mug of ale without being asked.

"Within the year, if I'm a betting man," he laughed.

"Before Midsummer," remarked the woman, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Before Midsummer and you get two weeks vacation. After Midsummer and I get your famous chocolate cake delivered privately to my office, without Carole or Kurt knowing."

"That's a bet I'm willing to take, Your Majesty."

* * *

"It's shocking how people assume that because my legs don't work, neither do my ears," shared Lord Artie Abrams. "You might say I began training to become Spymaster the moment I woke up in my bed, having been thrown from my horse. I was eight. Our household staff, the doctors, even my parents, who'd always been so careful to not share secrets in front of me, no longer had that apprehension."

Having answered questions for over an hour – questions that volleyed from one subject to the next with no rhyme or reason - Sebastian sat in front of the Spymaster, listening intently.

"Knowledge is power, Sebastian Smythe. And, at times, that makes me, and the man I serve, the most powerful men in the kingdom. And I'm sure you are curious as to why I am sharing this with you now."

Sebastian glanced down at his hands before answering. "It did … pique my curiosity."

Lord Abrams smiled wryly. "Good. I have a task, Sebastian Smythe, a task that I feel you would be … well, that would fit you. Fit you perfectly, given your upbringing. But before I can set you on this task, you will need to accomplish two things."

"And those would be –" Sebastian inquired, a hint of his snarky attitude creeping in despite his best efforts to keep it contained.

Chuckling, Lord Abrams stared at Sebastian appraisingly. "I need you to swear your allegiance to me. And with that allegiance comes a vow of absolute secrecy. To break that vow … will cost you your life. And you needn't worry about it being drawn out and legal. You will simply cease to exist on this earth."

"Keep my mouth shut. Got it."

"Put more simply, yes. The second requirement you will need to accomplish is your basic training as a knight. If you agree to work for the office of the Spy Master, which doesn't officially exist, then you will need to be able to protect yourself. The Knights of the King's Army are excellent teachers. And after you complete their training, I will send you to a few individuals who would prefer you forget them the moment you leave their presence. They will further your understanding of ways a man might live … or die."

Sebastian ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head softly. "To clarify my understanding: I'm to undergo training and then possibly begin working for _an agency_ which doesn't exist, who will send me to others who would prefer _not to be known_ to exist, and all of this is something of which I cannot speak, or _I_ won't exist."

"You are a quick study, Trainee Smythe."

Sebastian sat in silence for several long moments and then shoved up from his chair and offered his hand to Lord Abrams. "Why not? Everyone seems convinced that I was in on my father's plan. I'd like a chance to redeem myself in their eyes. And my own."

Shaking Sebastian's hand, Lord Artie rolled his wheeled chair over to the door and opened it for Sebastian. "I'll be in touch within a day or two. Go to the end of the hallway and take the left staircase up two flights. You'll know how to get back to the barracks from there."

"Thank you, my Lord."

* * *

When Kurt finally slipped through the door into his bedroom, he found Blaine curled up on the sofa, a blanket wrapped tightly around his body in front of the fire. Instead of sleeping, Blaine was staring with red-rimmed eyes in to the dancing flames. Dropping a kiss on Blaine's curls, Kurt moved to his wardrobe, stripping off his clothing and boots. "I'm off to wash. I'll join you shortly."

Blaine grunted in response.

Returning a few minutes later, Kurt found Blaine in the exact same position. "Hey," he crooned softly, "care to make room for one more?" Pushing gently on Blaine's shoulder, Kurt was able to get him to sit up enough so he could pull the blanket away from his body and slide in behind his lover and pull him against his chest. "I assumed I'd find you asleep in bed."

Shivering, Blaine adjusted the blanket more tightly around his thin frame. "I couldn't sleep. So I thought I'd wait for you."

Leaning forward, Kurt trailed kisses along the back of Blaine's neck. "Do you wish to speak about anything with me? Sometimes I find it makes things better if you … share with someone you trust."

Voice trembling, Blaine shared, "I almost died twice in the last day … I killed a man … My father's dead … I had a moment of pity for Sebastian when he spoke of his childhood … I'm apparently a Duke." He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "My head just keeps … spinning. Images just keep coming up and all I want is to make them stop. I just want to shutter them."

Kurt tightened his hold on Blaine. "Is there _anything_ I can do to make things better?"

Blaine turned his head and waited for Kurt to capture his lips in a soft, searching kiss. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he wanted.

Wriggling around, Blaine pressed Kurt against the back of the sofa and intertwined their legs, laying chest to chest. "All I was looking forward to was an end to the wedding insanity. Catching up on my sleep. Spending time with you. I feel like a leaf that fell from a tree and was just about to settle on the ground, only to be caught up by a storm's breeze and tossed along without rhyme or reason."

Laying his head on Kurt's chest, Blaine listened to the steady thump of his heart. "I don't want to think … about anything."

Kurt skimmed his hands across Blaine's back. "I think I can arrange that. If you want." Taking Blaine's silence as assent, Kurt pulled the blanket off of them. "I want you to go into the bathing pool."

"Kurt, I took a bath earlier," Blaine protested, trying to pull the blanket back into space.

Pushing Blaine into a sitting position, Kurt shook his head. "You don't want to think for a little bit. I'm going to give that to you. Trust me. Go into the bathing pool, and wait for His Highness."

Blaine blinked slowly while his brain caught up to Kurt's insinuations. "Okay," he whispered, dropping a quick kiss to Kurt's lips before padding naked across the room.


	44. Prince

Strong, calloused hands slid over his over-worked muscles, from his shoulders to the top of his ass, in one slow, smooth glide. Over and over again. Every time he groaned as a muscle protested this pleasure-pain, the hands would halt and dig deeper, applying the pressure that would eventually force the muscle to loosen.

His cock had taken notice. How could it not? He was stripped naked, a thin sheet covering only his legs. The man for whom he had intense feelings, hovered over him, leaving no portion of his body untouched. Well, all but one.

There was a fluttered movement, and the sheet landed over his back – leaving him uncovered from the waist down. Oil dripped languidly onto his lower back, where he could feel it pooling. And then the hands began again, gripping into the tight muscles of his ass, and then gliding down the backs of his legs, down his calf muscles, to rub the bottom of his soles. He let out a quiet moan. "That feels exquisite."

How long this continued was a question he couldn't answer. Only too soon the sheet was draped over his legs and feet. A heavier blanket was also placed over his body.

"I'm going to bring you some water," Kurt murmured softly. "You'll feel sore tomorrow, from the manipulation of your muscles. The more water you drink, the better you'll end of feeling." Blaine's head was still buried in a pillow, so Kurt assumed he'd heard his words. It took a moment to pour some cold water into a glass and return to his bed chamber where Blaine was snoring lightly.

Placing the glass on the night table, Kurt lifted the bedding up enough to slide underneath and dropped a series of kisses across Blaine's shoulders. "Wake up, _Your Grace_," he cajoled. "You need to drink this water."

Blinking his eyes sleepily, Blaine turned to his side and reached out to pull Kurt against him, enjoying the slow slide of their bodies the oil, still left on his, allowed. "Have other needs. M're 'portant," he mumbled into Kurt's shoulder.

Snorting, Kurt reached behind him, bringing the glass to Blaine's lips and holding it there as Blaine took several long sips. When Blaine pulled away, Kurt replaced the glass on the night table, and moved to press Blaine into the mattress, covering his body with his own. "Did I miss a spot?" he whispered, turning so he could scrape his teeth over Blaine's ear lobe.

"Uh huh," Blaine gasped, reaching for Kurt's hand and guiding it down to the erection he'd had for nearly an hour. "Shoddy work, _Your Highness. _Can't have that_._"

"Careful, _Your Grace_," growled Kurt as he began to slide his hand over Blaine's cock. "That sounds dangerously close to criticism of the crown."

Blaine couldn't help but lift his lips off of the mattress as Kurt tightened his grip. "And the consequence of that-" Letting out a whimper, Blaine lost track of his words.

"Your prince takes you to the edge of bliss, and doesn't let you fall," Kurt answered gruffly. Kurt dipped his head down to capture Blaine's lips, as he tightened his grip and added a twist over the swollen mushroom head.

Talking through their kiss, Blaine whined, "'S not nice, Kurt."

Kurt lifted Blaine's legs, wrapping them around his waist. Pressing his own erection against Blaine's entrance, Kurt buried himself in his lover in one long thrust. "_Your Grace_."

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, pulling him as close as he could, trying to climb inside Kurt's skin. "Love you," he murmured, over and over as Kurt thrust into his welcoming body.

Without warning, a sob escaped from Kurt, who buried his face in the crook of Blaine's neck. His movements grew erratic. "I almost lost you twice, Blaine, I was more scared than I've ever been in my life." After swallowing down a few more sobs, Kurt added, "I love you too."

When they lay blissful and boneless in each other's arms, Kurt threading his fingers through Blaine's damp curls, he was suddenly struck with a plan. "I want you to undergo sword training," he murmured softly so as to not startle Blaine. "I want you to learn to fight and to defend yourself."

"Sure," Blaine answered huskily. "I won't mind wandering around the training yard shirtless. It will break up my duties working for the High Clerk nicely."

"You're officially a member of the peerage, Your Grace. You'll have to wear a shirt, or the courtiers will be all a buzz," Kurt replied, a hint of jealousy creeping in to his tone.

Blaine snorted loudly. "And the reason _you_ are allowed to go shirtless in the training yard?"

"Prince."

* * *

Still assigned to shadow Trainee Smythe's movements, Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky led him through the maze of hallways leading to Karofsky's quarters. Sebastian hadn't really responded at his attempts to have a conversation, so eventually Dave stopped asking questions. Reaching his door, he gestured for Sebastian to enter before shutting it softly behind them.

"I had the items you requested from your father's estate brought here," Karofsky explained softly, gesturing to a trunk and several bags stacked in one corner of his room. "Until you are granted standing as a Knight, you'll be staying in the barracks. At least, I believe you will. I haven't heard differently from Prince Kurt or the Swordmaster. You shouldn't keep anything of value there. It will be stolen or ruined in some other creative way. You're welcome to keep your things here … until such time as you have somewhere else to keep them."

Biting his lower lip, Sebastian took in the small pile of things that represented his life. It was rather pathetic if he allowed himself to think about it very long. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Sebastian dropped his hand on Karofsky's shoulder, squeezing it softly. "Thank you, David. For everything." Karofsky's head snapping up had Sebastian instantly wary, sputtering and holding his hands palms out. "I'm sorry. I just …"

Shaking his head, Karofsky waved away Sebastian's concerns. "It's fine. That was the first time I remember you using my given name, that's all. It startled me." A faint flush spread across his cheeks as he admitted, "I rather liked it. I'm not angry or offended."

Choosing to ignore David's embarrassment … and his things for the moment, Sebastian crossed to the crisply made bed, and slumped down on the edge of the straw filled mattress. "When **_do_** I move to the barracks? Or should I be asking when do **_we_** move into the barracks?"

Karofsky moved to stand before the glass window, staring out into one of the castle's many gardens watching the snow fall in heavy drifts. "I'm not sure," he said, tracing a pattern on the glass with the tip of his finger. "Typically, you'd be there now. But considering I've been ordered to keep you within eyesight, I think they're not worried about what you're doing. They're worrying about more pressing things than which pillow your head hits at night."

Leaning a shoulder against the stone wall, Karofsky looked over at Sebastian sitting on his bed. "But let's be clear, I'm not about to move back into a drafty, chilly, bug infested dormitory. If the prince orders me to continue my current assignment, your head can continue to find its way to my bed chambers. I'll have the castle staff bring another sleeping pallet in for you to use."

"Well, you've certainly sold me on the barracks. I can hardly wait to join the other trainees," Sebastain teased, rolling his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he flopped back on the bed, placing his hands under his head and staring at the ceiling.

"How was your conversation with Lord Abrams?" Karofsky asked before stepping to the bed and motioning for Sebastian to slide over.

Giving Karofsky a put-out look, Sebastian heaved himself over allowing Karofsky to lie down beside him. Without comment, he lifted Dave's arm so he could more easily use him as a pillow. "Fine, I suppose," he sighed. "He asked the same questions you asked. Prince Kurt asked. Prince Finn asked. Lady Lopez asked. Oh, and Special Emissary Porter. Um … your interrogations have been nearly identical. Not sure that's a good thing, or bad."

"Why would it be a bad thing?" asked Karofsky.

Sebastian shrugged. "I don't know. It's just unsettling to me that everyone basically had the same questions. Like everyone is on the same page – but I feel like we need to look at different pages. Maybe a whole different book, when it comes to my father. He wouldn't have made a move without having a plan, and a back-up plan, and a back-up to the back-up plan. Everyone wants to know where I think he'll go. Who his friends are that will risk the king's wrath by sheltering him."

Dave stretched his neck to either side while listening to Sebastian process the events of the past two days. "You think we should be looking at this from a different angle," he summarized.

Staring through the window at the snow falling, Sebastian nodded. "My father didn't share anything with me … which in itself isn't unusual. Beyond my role as heir, I didn't have much purpose in his life. But I've spent my life watching him. There is some reason why he chose to act now. Or was going to act. There's something he wants, and he felt he could achieve it."

"Do you think your mother – sorry, his wife knows anything of use?" Dave asked.

"It wouldn't surprise me if she did. But she's not going to say anything. I'm not the only member of the household who has worn bruises gifted by my father," Sebastian admitted dryly. "She has every reason to fear for her life, so threats from Lady Lopez or Prince Finn will go nowhere. Even if you were to convict her of treason and place the hangman's rope around her neck, it's no more than what my father would do if he thought she'd betrayed him … and it would be quicker."

Grunting, Dave sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "I'd like to take you down to the armory to get your training weapons and then to the supply room to pull some of the uniforms you will need for your training. You'll be joining the others tomorrow."

Wiping a hand over his face, Sebastian sat up as well. "Um, if that's the case, maybe we can come back early and nap. Sounds like it will be a while before I'm allowed to get my regular amount of beauty sleep. Sir."

Standing up and crossing his arms, Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky pierced trainee Smythe with his gaze. "Beauty sleep, trainee? No one cares about how pretty you are in the barracks."

With a small smirk, Sebastian stepped up to his soon-to-be commanding officer and slipped an arm around his waist. Leaning in, Sebastian murmured, "You're not in the barracks, Sir."

Closing his eyes, Dave shook his head. "You are incorrigible, my lord."

"And _David_? You can have a sleeping pallet brought in for appearances sake, but my head is perfectly content resting on your pillow."

"We'll see … _Sebastian_."


	45. Spring Thaw

_-early spring-_

Sitting around a large oval table in the king's study sat King Burt and Prince Kurt, along with his most trusted knights – Sir Spencer Porter, Sir Noah Puckerman, and Knight-Lieutenant Karofsky. A map of the kingdom stretched across most of the table held down by several goblets of wine.

"It's the beginning of the winter thaw," began the king, pointing to the large rivers that separated his kingdom into three distinct regions. "Many animals come out of hibernation, hungry and short-tempered. Smythe will be no different. We still have little idea of what his ultimate goal is, but sitting here waiting will do none of us any good. I want to send an small envoy to each of our boardering nations to fortify our relationships. We can use Finn and Rachel's rushed wedding as an excuse, but you will need to make sure our allies understand that sheltering Smythe will be perceived as an act of war against our crown."

King Burt looked at each of the young men. "We will be sending Alistair, Santana and Kurt as our emissaries. Blaine will serve as Interim High Clerk in Lady Lopez's absence as well as assist the Special Emissary's office with official duties. Finn will also remain behind because of Rachel's _condition_."

"I don't like it," muttered Sir Noah, taking a large gulp of crimson wine while staring at the map. "We're sending off our Crown Prince and two of our highest ranking officials at the same time. Princess Rachel's pregnancy was only just announced. Why can't Prince Finn go in Kurt's place?"

The prince and king shared a pointed look before Kurt answered. "She's seven months into the pregnancy, not three as they'd like everyone to believe." Running his fists over his tired eyes, he continued. "This mission will take us into summer at a minimum. My brother deserves to be at the birth of his child … and to answer the subsequent questions when a child who '_should'_ arrive in September appears fully grown in May."

"_Kurt_," King Burt rebuked.

"**_I_** didn't impregnate someone forcing a rushed wedding on this entire court," Kurt shot back, standing up and walking to the bookshelves behind him. He picked up a small wooden puzzle and began working to solve it.

"And you're lashing out because you don't want to leave Blaine," King Burt replied softly. "I'm sorry he can't travel with you. He's needed here."

"I _know_ that." Kurt knew his tone was less than princely. But he was annoyed at both having to leave Blaine for an untold number of months, and for his father's astute read of his feelings. "I think Noah should travel with Lady Lopez. She's going west, and you've not managed to anger our western allies by corrupting their daughters and sisters," Kurt said, raising his eyebrows at Sir Noah.

Sir Noah gave a small shrug. "True."

"And it's closer," Sir David inserted. "You'll return sooner. I'm sure Lady Pierce will appreciate having her wife at hand during the later stages of her impeding motherhood." As the others all turned to stare at him, David's eyes grew larger. "You didn't know?"

Sir Spencer rested his head on his elbow and smirked, "How the hell do _you_ know, Karofsky?"

"That's not germane to the situation at hand," King Burt cut in. "Although we should keep it in mind. Spencer, are you comfortable escorting Alistair?"

The first reply that crossed his mind was too inappropriate to voice to his king. Using his training, Spencer took a deep breath and considered things with the eyes of a battle-tested knight. Once he made his decision, Spencer nodded slightly. "All things considered, I don't think that would present a problem – though if Karofsky has strong feelings one way or the other, I would defer to him."

"Actually," Kurt said, moving to stand behind Karofsky, "Sir David needs to come with me. For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture in time."

"Very well. Seven days from today I expect your envoys to be staged and ready to leave. Alistair's office will have the travel plans and arrangements completed by then. Thank you, Gentlemen, for your service." King Burt stood, and after shaking the hand of each of the men, left to attend to other business.

"If we're all leaving in seven days," Karofsky began, "then are we running our trainees through their final testing before our exodus? Or are we leaving that beast in Sword Master Beiste's hands?"

Sighing tiredly, Prince Kurt shook his head. "They test tomorrow." Rolling up the map, he returned it to the storage carousel while Sir Spencer corked the wine bottles and placed them on the shelf with the king's personal collection of alcohol. As Sir Noah and Sir David walked towards the door, Kurt called out, "David? Sebastian should receive no unfair advantages in the testing. Like being told when the testing is to take place."

"I don't know why you'd think I would do such a thing, Your Highness," answered Karofsky.

"I'm sure you don't. David, would you stay for a moment? I'd like to speak with you privately," Kurt said, dismissing Sir Spencer and Sir Noah with a wave of his hand. Once the other two men had left his father's office, Kurt leaned on the edge of his father's desk, dropping his hands on either side of his hips. Picking up their previous conversation, Kurt added, "He's also not to be told where we're going. It's precautionary."

Leaning against the door, arms crossed over his impressive chest, Sir David stared hard at the prince. "Ten weeks he's shared my quarters, Your Highness. In ten weeks he has shown absolutely no signs of being anything less than a man striving to rebuild his life. There is no love between the fugitive and Sebastian. There has been no communication between them. If he was hiding something, anything, I would know. Or at least have suspicions."

Kurt gripped the desk edge more tightly under his fingers. Blowing out a breath, he insisted, "Your word, David. Your word that you won't reveal our destination."

Jaw clenched, Karofsky nodded once. "My word. My oath. My fealty, Your Highness. I will not reveal our travel plans to Trainee Smythe. Although I will take any suggestions as to what I **am** supposed to tell him regarding my prolonged absence."

Kurt thought about the choices he could make and the reasonable outcomes of those choices. After a few moments, he concluded, "You can tell him you're traveling, just nothing specific. If you're wrong, which I believe is unlikely, we don't want his father knowing where I'll be."

"Fine."

Letting out slow breath, Kurt stared at a point just over Karofsky's shoulder as he brought up the touchy topic he didn't want the others to overhear. "Once he passes his final testing, and I have no doubt he will, Sebastian _will be_ a knight in the King's Army. You will no longer be required to 'oversee' his movements. He'll need to move into the bachelor barracks as any other single knight would do."

Karofsky didn't move a single muscle at Prince Kurt's pronouncement, though his stomach felt as though it had fallen to his feet. Rather than responding, he waited for the prince, hoping he wouldn't notice the nervous perspiration he could feel forming all over his body.

Stepping forward, Prince Kurt closed the distance between them. "David," he said softly, "we've known each other since you came to the castle as an eleven year old page. As a Prince of the Kingdom, I'm letting you know that _I know_ your feelings for Trainee Smythe are deeper than would ordinarily be shared between a Knight-Lieutenant and a trainee. I'm also confident I'm the only one who suspects."

Sir David paled at Kurt's words, but still held his tongue.

"I didn't ask you to stay to lecture you. You know the risks and certainly don't need me to enumerate them. I worry about Spencer traveling with Alistair and whether their marriage will impact Spencer's judgment. I have to trust it won't." Kurt stepped even closer, looking deep into Sir David's eyes. "I trust you too. I hope you believe that here," he said, tapping the area above Karofsky's heart. "As your _friend_, I want you to find happiness, David."

Karofsky sucked in a breath and then swallowed around his very dry throat. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Looking away for a brief moment, Kurt put his unsettled thoughts into some semblance of order. "I have every reason to dislike Trainee Smythe for his attack on Blaine, and every reason to thank him for the same – because we wouldn't be together but for that incident. I've watched his training with a close eye and it surprises me to say he's impressed me with his dedication to our craft. I'd like to think your considerable influence has had a lasting impact. The fact that Blaine has no qualms training with Sebastian speaks volumes to me.

"So, like I said before, as your friend, if he brings you happiness, David, then I'd hope you eventually share that with me. Because I will do what I can to let you chase that feeling down. You and I have seen the evil that men can inflict on each other. We all need a lighthouse to guide us home … I'll see you tomorrow morning for the testing."

Sir David Karofsky stayed Prince Kurt's leaving, grasping his elbow. "Thank you … Kurt."

Winking, Kurt answered, "You're welcome," before leaving the room.

Closing the door again, Sir David slowly slid down its length, wrapping his arms around his knees.


	46. Not Enough Time

A/N: This summer has been jammed packed with exciting adventures which is why my posting has been irregular up until now. Alas, tomorrow work begins again, which means the exciting adventures must cease (or at least come from a roiling boil to a slow simmer). I do hope you've enjoyed the recent additions to Under Consent of the King. I have mentally divided this story into three parts: Awakening (the beginning that explores Blaine's awakening sexuality), Existence (Blaine's life settling in to the court &amp; the wedding) and Redemption (the part I haven't posted/ written yet that will deal heavily with Sebastian redeeming himself for his past actions). I mention this because to travel down the path from beginning to end as I've envisioned it will involve a bit of a shifting focus. I'd like to think if you've enjoyed the story thus far, you'll stick around for the ending. Thank you for reading and a special thank you to those of you who've taken the time to tell me what you are enjoying about this story. The muse likes compliments. -k8

* * *

"Blaine!"

Princess Rachel flounced into Duke Blaine's office – as much as a woman in her condition could flounce. She and Prince Finn had had to formally announce her pregnancy when the dress makers could no longer hide her bump with winter clothes or a high-waisted dress. She was still as demanding as ever.

"Princess," he acknowledged, looking up from some pressing paperwork.

"Blaine, I've been thinking," she began, not noticing Blaine raising an eyebrow or sighing loudly. "This child I'm carrying will be the third in line for the throne. In fact, he or she will probably sit on the throne after Kurt. I believe that warrants a proper celebration of his, or her, birth and I think we need to start planning now."

There were so many things wrong with Princess Rachel's train of thought that Blaine didn't know where to begin. Rubbing the spot between his eyes, he tried to figure out what the quickest way to get her out of his office would be so he could continue with the work that actually had to be completed prior to Lady Santana's extended absence.

"How about this, Princess: why not start with your ideal guest list. Don't forget the foreign dignitaries that should be invited. Also, if you could write down what you truly enjoyed from your wedding – a certain dish or dessert. Some of the entertaining acts or musicians. And then any of the ideas you have for the celebration. Once you've written that all down, perhaps we can set a date for next week to meet with Queen Carole and myself and we can begin from your notes."

Princess Rachel scooted closer to Blaine's desk. "I'm worried that won't give us enough time. Four months? Don't you have anything tomorrow or the next day?"

Blaine made a show of flipping through his appointment calendar, slowly shaking his head. "No, Princess. Unfortunately with the impending departure of the High Clerk, my calendar has filled with items she'd normally take care of. Of course, if the Queen demands my time earlier, then I may be forced to juggle things around a bit. Perhaps you can speak with her about this matter, express your concerns that, with four months to plan, instead of two weeks, the staff won't have enough time to make proper plans." The last part might have carried a bit of reproach.

The door to his office opened and in strode Prince Kurt. Taking one glance at Princess Rachel, Kurt said, "I'm sorry for interrupting Princess, but his Grace is more than fifteen minutes late to a meeting with the King's advisors."

Dropping a brief curtsey, Princess Rachel muttered a thank you to Blaine and went to find Queen Carole.

"Thank you," sighed Blaine as he stood and moved around his desk. Once Kurt had locked the door, Blaine held out his arms and enfolded Kurt in an embrace.

"We should bell her like we do the kittens, so we know when she's on the move," Kurt murmured, soaking in the time he had left with Blaine. "What did she want?"

"To plan the celebration of the birth of her child. Who, according to Rachel, is the third in line to the throne and will sit on it after you." Pulling away slightly, Blaine looked up into Kurt's eyes. "Your father will want to celebrate the birth of his first grandchild, that's not a question. But I thought you'd spoken to Finn about this after the first time she started speaking of _her_ child on the throne."

"I did. And I will again. What concerns you the most about it, love?" Kurt asked softly.

"Truthfully? That you and Santana will leave, without Finn speaking to Rachel and at some point it will fall to me to explain the laws of succession to her. I'm not doing that, Kurt. It isn't my responsibility. We both know she's going to react poorly to the news, having built up whatever fantasy she has in her head and I'm not willing to bear the brunt of her tantrums. Not about this."

Kurt leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Blaine's lips. "I promise to speak to Finn again. I will drag him to her if I must to make sure he explains things."

"Given you and your father have conspired to take my bedmate away for an untold amount of months, I think it is the least you can do, Your Highness." Blaine cupped the side of Prince Kurt's face with his palm and held him there as they continued their kiss.

"We're testing the candidates for knighthood tomorrow morning," Kurt said after losing himself in Blaine for a few minutes. "No sharing that information. But if you'd like to come watch, you're welcome to attend."

"Will you be testing my skills with the sword as well? I began training at the same times as your cadre of knight-trainees," Blaine asked.

Tilting his head to the side, Kurt gave the question some consideration. "Perhaps. Come prepared, and the Prince may see if he can arrange that. _I've_ heard he rather enjoys seeing you shirtless in the training yard, _Your Grace_."

Smirking, Blaine leaned in conspiratorially. "That's good to know because, between you and me, I rather enjoy seeing His Highness. Stripped. On my bed. In my bath. Spread across my desk."

"_Blaine_," groaned the prince.

"Yes, well, sadly I have too much work to accomplish to reenact that fantasy. I'll just have to hope the prince is able to make it to our bedchamber early tonight."

Kurt ran his hands down Blaine's back, gripping his ass firmly. "I'll do my best."

"Then I'll do mine. Now go tell Prince Finn to stop being a coward when it comes to speaking to his wife." Giving Kurt one last peck on the lips, Blaine disentangled himself and walked back to his desk.

"I love you, _Your Grace_."

"Love you too, _Your Highness_."


	47. Three Nights Time

"_Fucking traitor_," he heard right before a large mass slammed into his body. Stumbling hard, Sebastian Smythe was just able to keep himself on his feet, spinning to assess this attack more fully. Standing nearby were three of the trainees who'd tried to beat him up months ago – and had been punished severely for their actions. Narrowing his eyes, Sebastian balanced his weight more equally and prepared to defend himself.

"Eventually we're going to be fighting for the same side," he pointed out. "And you know if the Sword Master doesn't believe we can do that, we won't promote."

The large young man walked nearer, sweeping his blond bangs from his face. "We will **_never_** fight for the same side. Your father is a traitor and apples don't fall far from their trees. Maybe you've fooled the Sword Master, and maybe you don't have qualms about offering up your body to the lieutenant to earn his trust –but you will never have mine."

"Your body or your trust?" The sarcastic retort came out of his mouth before he could think twice about how it might inflame the situation. Sebastian fought against his instinct to tighten his hands into fists. Instead he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet and waited for a sign the fight was on. The friends of Lord Abrams had taught him defense of self well over the past ten weeks. "Make a move and you'll end up on the ground, wishing we'd never met."

"I _already_ wish that."

**"****That's Enough!"**

At the sound of Sword Master Beiste's shout, everyone in the weapons shed stood at attention. Rounding the corner, she glared at each of them. "So I'm idiot who can't judge the character of a man?" she nearly spat, getting so close to Trainee Ericksson their noses were brushing.

"No, Sir!" he responded automatically as the color leached from his face.

"I heard you with my own ears, you smear on the bottom of a muckrakers shoe!" Spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed at Ericksson. "Smythe, Clearlake, Von Rassle, dismissed. Ericksson, you and I are going to go have a chat to decide if the King's Army is the right choice for you. I'm certainly not feeling it right now. I'm sure it's because I'm a fool."

"No, Sir," Trainee Ericksson replied – the fear of being kicked out of the knighthood for his lack of discretion clear in his voice.

Sebastian didn't wait around to be told twice.

Snatching a green and brown huntsman cloak from a peg near the door, Sebastian hurried away from the army's training grounds. Ducking into the castle, he stuck to the lower floors where the servants had reign. Making several quick turns, he was able to establish that no one was following him too closely. It took a few minutes to reach the area the gardeners brought their clippings from the gardens. From there, Sebastian used the door that led out into the orchards.

Following the cobblestone path, Sebastian worked at making as little noise as possible. And every few minutes, he paused, seemingly to admire a flower or fruit to assure himself he was still alone. Finally he reached a stone wall that stood fifteen feet high at least. It took a moment to find the loose stone that hid a mechanism which triggered a hidden door. Ducking his head, Sebastian entered a hidden piece of the castle, known to only a handful.

"Well met, Lord Smythe."

Straightening up his lanky frame, Sebastian insisted, "It's Trainee Smythe, Lord Abrams."

"And tomorrow it will be Sir Smythe, of the King's Army," Lord Abrams predicted, pointing at Sebastian with his fork.

Sebastian cocked his head at that statement, but refrained from asking about it.

The Spymaster sat in his wheeled chair at a small table. His evening's meal spread out before him, he took a sip from his wine goblet before saying, "Your training here is at an end. Both for the King's Army and for what I need you to know to survive. In three nights' time you will leave this castle and meet a man outside the west gate who will escort you to where we believe your father to have his strong hold. It will be your task to infiltrate and learn what you can, sending that information back to me using our network. No one can know of your departure, Sebastian. For your safety. Some will assume you were biding your time and took the chance to run when you could. Some will assume you've run away to meet your father to assist in his plans."

There was no other chair or stool to sit, so Sebastian remained standing, looking down on the Spymaster. Chewing on his lower lip, Sebastian nodded. People would assume the worst when he turned up missing. But he understood the importance of the job he would undertake.

"You might wonder why we don't just raid the location of your father's den," Lord Abrams began.

"No," Sebastian interrupted. "You need to know what his plan is. I understand that. If you were to raid, there is always the possibility he escapes again. Sending me in limits that possibility.

"I'd remind you of the danger-"

Looking up at the darkening sky, Sebastian scoffed lightly. "I have an up close and personal understand of exactly how dangerous my father can be, my lord. I know if he learns why I am really there, my life will be forfeit."

Taking another drink from his wine goblet, Lord Abrams asked, "Other questions? You feel prepared?"

"As prepared as I can be. Assuming I come back,-"

"You will come back."

Frowning, Sebastian wrapped the borrowed cloak around his body to ward off the evening's chill. "Assuming I make it back, you'll clear up the 'running away from duty' misunderstanding? I mean, if something happens to you, is there any other record that explains what I'm doing. You understand, so my head doesn't end up in a noose."

"You have insight rarely found in someone your age. Suffice it to say, I have records, held in the strictest confidence, which would exonerate you. Also, that would allow someone to find you if necessary. I won't hang you out to dry like a piece of laundry, Sebastian. I think you will be an excellent addition to my service – and I plan on using you for years to come."

"Three nights. West gate. How will I know this man?"

"You won't. He knows who you are. You can trust him."

"Very well, Lord Abrams."

"Good luck, Sir Smythe."


	48. A Rose By Any Other Name

A/N: Happy soon-to-be weekend!

* * *

Sebastian slipped into Sir David's bed chamber, slipping off the cloak and hanging it on a hook near the door. David was sitting at his desk, parchment in front of him, working on some list by candlelight. As he moved closer, David threw some fine sand over his writing to soak up the extra ink and quickly rolled up the parchment, sliding it into his desk.

"If you need to continue your work, it won't bother me," Sebastian offered, as he moved closer.

"It can wait until tomorrow afternoon," David said with a wave of his hand. "You're later than I expected."

"Oh," Sebastian blurted, hurrying back to his cloak. Moments later he laid a single peach rose on David's desk. "There was a … altercation at the end of training today." Seeing David's concern, Sebastian cut off his inevitable questions, "The Sword Master took care of it. I went for a walk in the gardens to clear my head. This," he said, picking up the rose and brushing it down David's arm, "reminded me of you."

Shivering at the light touch of the flower petals, David closed his eyes, and let out a chuckle. "A rose reminds you of me? I'm … flattered?"

"Shush, Lieutenant. I'm sure there are hundreds of other things I could use, objects that are thick and long and hard-"

"_Sebastian_-"

"A bludgeon. A fat, juicy sausage."

David stood, his chair tumbling over as he pressed his lips hard against Sebastian's mouth to silence him. "Enough. Thank you for the flower," he murmured softly. Stepping away from Sebastian's wandering hands, David picked up a cup that sat on his desk and went to the water basin, filling it with water. Returning, he picked up the flower and placed it in the water, twirling the petals under his fingertips.

"It's the same color as your lips," Sebastian explained quietly, sitting on the edge of the desk. "And your nipples."

David could feel the flush creep across his face.

"Maybe I should have picked a rose colored one to match those blushes that you save for me." Sebastian scratched the back of his neck as he gave David a shy smile. "David?"

"Yes?"

"I know we've talked … and talked … and talked about-"

Knowing where Sebastian was going, David placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "Sebastian … you've been exceptionally patient with me, with my decision to not break my oaths and become involved with a trainee. I know what you want, and you have to believe me that I want that too. Prince Kurt pulled me aside today and he suspects."

If Sebastian hadn't been sitting down, he probably would have fallen over. "Suspects? Suspects what?"

David ran his thumb over Sebastian lips. "My feelings for you. Please don't ask me to make love to you tonight, Sebastian. Because I don't think I'm strong enough to say no – and I desperately need one of us to have the strength to do what is right."

Sebastian's disappointment was clear as his smile fell off of his face. A knock at the door pulled their attention from their personal conversation. David walked to the door and opened it, having a quiet conversation with whoever was there. Moments later he closed the door and walked back to Sebastian, an envelope in his hands.

"We're to attend a dinner with the King tomorrow evening," David said. He was staring at the envelope as if it were suddenly going to make itself into a paper figurine – a swan or frog or sailboat.

"We?"

Karofsky glanced up at the shocked tone Sebastian used. "Well, yes. I'm still supposed to be watching over you … but the envelope is addressed to both of us." He held it out as proof. "It isn't as if I'm ordering you to come with me, and I'm not asking you to come with me, although I do want you to come with me, it's just, our names are here – so you're invited as well."

Amused at the way David was stumbling over his words in his nervousness, Sebastian took the envelope out of David's hands to look over. "It's a very good thing we've established that I like you, Sir Karofsky, because that was probably the most pathetic attempt to ask a man if he would like to dine with you. But because I know you're anxious about dining with His Majesty, I'll let it go … this time."

The gentle teasing tone of Sebastian's words alleviated some of David's worries. "I will endeavor to do better the next time I ask you to dine with me," David promised, placing a chaste kiss on Sebastian's cheek.

"Would you like me to arrange for a hot bath before we dress tomorrow?" asked Sebastian.

"Yes. Definitely." Moving to his bed, David sat and began undoing the laces on his boots. "I need to rise extra early tomorrow morning. I'm going to turn in now." Yanking off the boots, he placed them next to the wall and began the process of removing his clothing until he was in naught but his underclothes. "Would you … would you join me? Would you like to join me?"

Sebastian gave a small smile, shaking his head with affection. "I haven't eaten since midday. I'll grab a quick bite in the kitchens and then be back to warm your bed. Would you like me to bring you back anything?

Yawning, David shook his head as he lay down and slid over to leave room for Sebastian.

By the time Sebastian returned, David's breathing was coming in soft huffs. Stripping off his own clothing, Sebastian crawled under the blanket and pressed against David. He had two nights before he would disappear for who knew how long, and he desperately wanted to solidify his connection to David with more than the occasional kiss. But part of what Sebastian admired most about Sir David Karofsky, Knight Lieutenant in the King's Army was his honor, loyalty, and dedication. Until he passed the tests to become a Knight, Lieutenant Karofsky wouldn't dream of taking Sebastian as a lover.

A sick feeling filled his stomach as Sebastian realized he'd been leaving the castle to begin his mission before things could ever move forward with David. Blinking away the moisture gathering in his eyes, Sebastian kissed David's bare shoulder and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come as quickly as it might.


	49. Hindsight is 2020

Warnings: Oblique reference to attempted sexual assault.

* * *

He should have suspected something when Lord Abrams told him he'd be Sir Smythe of the King's Army by tomorrow. He should have suspected something when David said he needed to turn in early. But instead, his thoughts had been filled with his up-coming mission and how he actually wanted to say goodbye to David. The clues were all there. But instead of seeing them, Sebastian missed them. At least it didn't cost him his life

Only his pride.

Sebastian was roused from his – their - David's warm bed by shouting, a deluge of icy water and an entirely too gleefully awake Sir Noah Puckerman.

"Wakey, wakey. It's time to get up, buttercup. Today's the day we'll all find out whether you're cut out to become a knight, or just a pathetic waste of my day," Sir Noah sang out while pouring water onto Sebastian's forehead. "And I'm not going to say anything, right now anyway, about why you're in Sir Karofsky's bed, looking all snuggy and comfy."

Growling, Sebastian rolled to his feet, sweeping his wet hair out of his eyes and stood at attention. "Sir Puckerman, Trainee Smythe wishes to thank you for that kind consideration."

"Yeah, yeah. Into your clothes, now. You've got three minutes to turn out in the training yard."

Sebastian grabbed his clothes and began shoving his arms and legs into the appropriate holes. "I thought testing wasn't for another month, Sir," Sebastian commented as he pulled his tunic over his head.

"Plans change. Story of working for the King's Army. A bunch of soldiers are leaving with the Prince, Lady Lopez and Emissary James in less than a week. The Sword Master and the Princes decided it was better to move up testing than wait for their return. Maybe you'll get to go with them. If you pass."

Lacing his boots, Sebastian stood, and smacked Sir Noah on the shoulder with affection. "I'll pass. Throwing up? 50/50. Needing new stitches? 70/30." Laughing, Sebastian ducked the arm Sir Noah through at his head, and ran out the door. "I'll see you in the training yard, Sir."

* * *

Collapsing in the shade of an oak tree, Sebastian took the ladle full of water offered by a squire and drank deeply. The morning had been filled with running, climbing, and team work exercises followed by more running, climbing and a swim in the nearby river that had recently thawed. The trainees had been fed a light lunch and were being given half an hour to recover whatever strength they could before they would begin weapons testing.

"Don't drink too much," a quiet voice from behind the tree said. Prince Kurt crouched down in front of Sebastian, taking the ladle from his hands and giving it back to the squire, who offered a scant bow to the Prince and hurried off. "I know you're thirsty right now, and you should, by all means, take water at a minimum of once an hour. But to gulp it all down at once now will only cause extreme muscle cramping later."

"Thank you, _Your Highness_," Sebastian returned.

Prince Kurt's lips pulled to the side as if he were fighting off a smile. "When we are here at the castle, Trainee Smythe, you may address me as _Your Highness_. However, in the field, it is always _Sir_. To address me any other way puts my life more at risk than it already is. And you will be punished for doing so until in sinks in to that incredibly thick head of yours."

"Yes, Sir."

Prince Kurt did smile at that. "Ah. He _can_ be taught," he teased lightly. "In all fairness, it is a habit that most of our trainees who grew up in the court struggle with. Understandably so." Standing up, he offered his hand to Trainee Smythe and pulled him to his feet. "You're to start with archery, then staff, then sword work."

Sebastian glanced over at the prince, realizing for the first time that they were of a similar height. "Then I'll see you later in this day, Sir."

"Good luck, Sebastian." Walking away, Kurt realized, somewhat surprisingly, that he meant it.

* * *

The sword work testing began with each of the trainees pairing off and fighting with their practice swords until someone yielded. The winners were then paired up with a new partner. Again and again the numbers were winnowed away until just Trainee Smythe and Trainee Ericksson were left.

Shrugging his shoulders to work out the tension, Sebastian glared at his opponent. A hand on his wrist drew his attention.

"He's in your head," Duke Blaine observed. "You need to kick him out. Forget about what he said in the past. Forget about what he's going to say trying to get a rise out of you during the match. Our fathers were friends, which is enough to tell me that you've practice in holding your tongue and not reacting to the provocations of others."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows once, tipping his head towards the shorter man. "Well observed, Your Grace. On all parts. Thank you for the advice."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't kick the shit out of him," Blaine continued, looking off towards where the defeated me were seated. "He's an ass. And not like you were an ass, either. He enjoys others' pain too much."

Hefting his sword, Sebastian sheathed it in the scabbard attached to his waist. "I would have hurt you if Sir Porter hadn't interrupted," he said apologetically.

Blaine looked up into his eyes. "Yes, you would have. But you didn't _want_ to hurt me, Sebastian. You were drunk, and wanted to have sex with me. That doesn't excuse your actions. Ericksson – he _**is** _the type to find someone and force them just so he can enjoy their fear and their pain. My father was like that. Tormenting others. I don't think you're like that Sebastian. Not anymore, at least."

The thudding of his heart was so loud in his ears, Sebastian wouldn't have been surprised if Blaine could hear it too. Wiping the back of his hand across the moisture that had gathered in his eyes, Sebastian cleared his throat. "I appreciate … your candor, Your Grace."

"You're welcome, Sebastian. And I would be grateful to you if you could go destroy Sir Ericksson for the both of us," Blaine said brightly. Squeezing Sebastian's wrist one last time, Blaine wandered over to where Prince Kurt and Prince Finn were speaking softly to each other.

Sebastian figured he and Ericksson were fairly evenly matched when it came to sword training. Unlike some of the trainees, Sebastian had come in with substantial knowledge of how to fight – given he was the son of a Duke, Sebastian had been schooled in combat techniques and self-defense from a very young age. Ericksson had more in the way of brute strength, but Sebastian had the tactics training. And the additional training Lord Abrams friends had provided him would be put to the test.

* * *

Ericksson raised his sword over his head and brought it down as if to sever Sebastian's head from his body. Given the dullness of the blades, it wouldn't actually do that, but Sebastian could end up with a very severe bruise on his neck, that would match the one on his thigh and the one on his ribs that Ericksson had already left him with. Sebastian parried the blow and turned, putting his hip into Ericksson's groin . Grabbing Ericksson's sword arm with his free hand, Sebastian threw him over his shoulder into the dirt below, leveling his sword at Ericksson's throat.

"Yield," Sebastian intoned loudly.

"You're still a fucking traitor," Trainee Ericksson spat, unable to move off of his back due to Sebastian's sword resting in the hollow of his throat.

"No," came the angry voice of Prince Kurt as he strode to stand next to Sebastian. "He's a Knight in the King's Army, Mr. Ericksson, and you are to take yourself out of my training yard and go home. There is no room for those men who cannot work alongside their fellow knights. You have proven time and again that you would rather hold on to your grudges, than serve your king. Good luck to you."

They watched as Ericksson rolled to his feet, red with embarrassment, and walked out of the training yard. "Congratulations, Sir Sebastian," Kurt continued softly, "that was some fine sword work you displayed. You do those who have trained you proud."

Pressing his lips together, Sebastian looked around the courtyard for David, but didn't see Sir Karofsky amongst the throng.

"He's still testing a few more candidates with the staff," Kurt explained casually. Holding out his hand, he shook Sir Smythe's hand firmly. "Sir David will be proud to hear you've passed our testing. For many reasons. What I would like to know, Sir Sebastian, is if you are willing to silence the rest of the trainees with a little show?"


	50. I'm Not Kissing You For Luck

It seemed as if word of Prince Kurt's impending battle with Sir Smythe had traveled through the castle at lightning speed. By the time Kurt returned carrying his sai swords, it seemed as if everyone not taking care of pressing business was ringing the training yard waiting quietly. Shaking his head, Kurt walked over to where Sebastian sat on a bench.

"A few people stopped by to watch," Sebastian observed wryly.

"So it seems," Kurt said with a chuckle. Placing his weapons down on the bench, Kurt stripped off his shirt, neatly folding it and placing it next to Sebastian.

"Will wonders never cease? He **_can_** fold his own laundry."

Kurt turned to wave off the Laundress with a smile. Before he could say anything else, another shirt floated through the air, covering his where it lay.

"Somehow I knew this day would end with you shirtless in the training yard," Blaine commented, standing a few feet away bare-chested holding his own blunted training sword. "Well, _this_ member of the court isn't about to let the two of you have all the fun. Think you can take us both on, _Your Highness_?"

Several replies went through Kurt's mind, but there were too many members of the court standing within ear shot for most of them. Breathing deeply, Kurt worked to center himself as he did, if there was time, before any battle or conflict. "If it gets you back into your shirt any faster, _Your Grace_, I'm all yours."

Winking at Sebastian, Blaine bumped the prince with his hip. "And usually you're working at getting me out of my clothing," he teased quietly. "How unlike you, _Your Highness_."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sebastian tried but failed to keep his laughter from bubbling up, letting out an undignified snort. "Your Grace, let's go discuss our strategy while His Highness plots my demise." Standing up, Sebastian nodded towards where Sir Puckerman and Sir Karofsky stood in anticipation of the match.

"Any wisdom either of you would like to impart?" Sebastian asked Sir Noah and Sir David as he walked up to the knights who'd fought alongside Prince Kurt for years.

Sir Noah glanced at Sir David before turning to study Sebastian and Blaine. "Those aren't training swords he's brought out – they're not blunted, so if he is able to strike you, it will cut you. He's deadly with those sai swords. He doesn't like to lose and he's got reasons to come hard at you, Smythe. Don't let your guard down. At all."

Crossing his arms, Sir David added, "He's going to take it easier on Your Grace. Not that it will feel like that to you, but he's not going to want to hurt you – accidentally or otherwise. When he's attacking you," he continued, looking at Sebastian, "the moves are going to be automatic. Fluid." David stepped closer and lowered his voice as the crowd began to cheer and clap. "You are both going to need to use every trick we've taught you about battling in close quarters with multiple men. And, if you want to win? Don't be afraid to distract Prince Kurt, Anderson."

Blaine's expression quickly turned from one of confusion to amusement as Sir David's words sunk in. "Understood," he answered before turning to see what his lover was up to.

To the sound of the audience's cheers and applause, Prince Kurt had marched to the center of the training yard and begun warming up with his swords. When he'd barely reached his teens, his mother's brother had gifted him with a set of sai swords and, with the King's permission, arranged for Kurt to be trained in the preferred weapons of his mother's people. While he'd also been given extensive training with a variety of weapons, if given the choice, Kurt preferred the elegance of the twin weapons.

He noticed when Sebastian handed Sir David his heavier sword, and received two wooden staffs in return. They were shorter than the long staff that many of the knights preferred and that Sir David had been testing the trainees in earlier. It was an interesting choice and not a bad one. It would allow Sebastian the same advantage he had with two weapons, to block and thrust at the same time. Blaine kept his lighter rapier.

Prince Kurt stopped his movements as Blaine and Sebastian joined him in the center of the training yard. Kurt moved both swords to his left hand and held out his right hand to Sebastian who immediately gripped it. "You've earned the title 'Sir'. We don't bestow knighthood lightly and it wasn't a mistake when I called you a knight earlier. That being said, there are those who will continue to associate you with your father's actions. I am hoping to end some of that here and now."

Sebastian nodded his understanding. "Thank you, Your … Sir."

Releasing Sebastian's hand, Kurt turned to offer his hand to Blaine. "And you. I've watched a few of your training sessions. I'd like to see exactly what my weapons masters have managed to instill in you over the past several months. Besides the obvious," he smirked, waving his hand in front of Blaine's torso which showed the results of such physical training.

"Yes, well, you've been admiring _those_ results for a while now, haven't you," Blaine shot back with a slight growl in his tone.

Kurt snickered and pulled Blaine forward, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "Good luck to you, My Grace." Turning to Sebastian, he added, "I'm not kissing you for luck. Karofsky is one of the few knights that can keep up with me," Kurt explained. "I'm not about to anger him … or the kingdom's newest Duke," he said with a nod towards Blaine.

"That's perfectly reasonable, Sir," Sebastian sputtered.

Blaine cocked an eyebrow and rolled his eyes before stepping away and readying himself. Prince Kurt and Sir Sebastian took that as their cue, as the noise from the crowd dimmed, and faced off with each other, gently tapping their weapons together three times.

And then the fight was on.

* * *

Sweat rolled down Blaine's face as the demonstration continued endlessly. He and Sir Sebastian had fallen into an easy partnership, one stepping up to face Kurt with a flurry of blows, while the other backed off until the other began to tire. Part of Blaine stood amazed at Kurt's stamina, to be able to face off against to opponents without slowing down.

As he stepped back to allow Sebastian to take over, Blaine became aware of a stinging under his left rib. Rubbing with his hand, the stinging grew worse, and Blaine quickly realized that at some point, Kurt had managed to cut him. The salt from his sweat on the open wound stung fiercely although Blaine realized that the knights of the King's Army often fought through much worse while in battle. Surely he could continue with such a small scratch.

The choice was taken from him when Sebastian noticed the blood trickling down Blaine's side. Blocking one last blow, he called, "Hold!" and Prince Kurt froze in place. Blaine could see Sebastian's lips moving though the cheering of the crowd made it impossible to hear him. Kurt glanced over his shoulder at Blaine, before quickly offering his hand to Sebastian.

Blaine walked towards Sir Noah and Sir Spencer, looking for a bucket of water that he might use to clean his wound. Before he reached them, Kurt had caught up and threw his arm around Blaine's shoulders.

"How bad is it?" he asked worriedly.

Blaine reached up his free hand and gently patted Kurt's cheek. "I'll live. It mostly just stings."

"I'm sorry."

"You can make it up to me later. How did I do?" Blaine asked curiously.

Kurt made Blaine sit down on the bench still holding their shirts, and made short work of washing and bandaging the small wound. "You held your own. That pleases me. Because if anyone were foolish enough to try to capture you again – or perhaps one day our children – I know you will be able to defend yourself. I hope you continue."

Taking up his shirt, Blaine slid it over his head. "It's nice to know you don't just like me training because of the physical effects it has."

Holding out his hand, Kurt pulled Blaine up and kissed him soundly. "Oh, I like those too. We have time for a short nap before we get ready for tonight's dinner."

Blaine laced his fingers with Kurt's as they walked back towards the castle proper. "A nap? Or a _nap_?"

"Oh, I'm certain we have time for a soak, a nap, a _nap_ and dressing for dinner," Kurt said jovially.

"Well, I've been injured, so you'll probably have to do most of the work," Blaine teased softly as they ducked into one of the many stone hallways in the castle. "Plus, I'm just now realizing that I can't really feel my arms. Is that normal?"

"Completely."

"I guess that's something."

"I'll make it better."

"You usually do."

"Usually?"

"Pretty much always."

"That's better."

"Could you put your shirt on, Kurt? People are staring"

"Jealous?"

"No more than you."

"Is that better?"

"Thank you, yes. It is."

"You're just going to strip it off me again as soon as we reach our chambers. I was saving you time."

"How thoughtful, _Your Highness_. I'll be sure to _thank_ you by letting you strip us both out of these smelly, sweat soaked clothes."

"_My Grace_ is too kind."

"I am, aren't I?"

Having arrived at the door to their shared chambers, Kurt placed his hand on Blaine's waist and slowly slid it down to softly pat his ass. "Let's go inside and see how many tired, overworked muscles I can soothe on your body."

"Blaine? I don't think _that's_ a muscle."


	51. This Kind of Treatment

A/N: It's short. But I've mentioned before, I stress write. Or write when I'm stressed. And today was one of _those_ days. I get into this weird head-space where I think and rethink about my response, how I could have responded, how I would respond if I'd won the lottery and could quit (it would be dramatic and involve 'calling in rich'). I can mentally see a couple of you nodding. So, this is terrific head space to write certain parts of this story (read: annoying brat Rachel) but not so great with the smutty bits. I was going to include this chapter with the next portion - but I realized just now that the 'dinner with the king' chapter is looking to be pretty darn big so here you go. k8

* * *

When he'd first slipped into the scalding hot water, Sebastian hissed, unsure if he'd be able to take the heat. Wrapping his arms around his knees, Sebastian watched with interest as David had tossed the contents of a folded piece of parchment into the water, an assortment of herbs with a fine powder, which gave off a pleasant aroma. Leaning back in the metal tub, Sebastian pulled the small wash rag into the tub and contemplated washing – although that seemed to be too much effort at the moment.

A moment later, David was standing over him with a tall glass of icy water which he carefully handed to Sebastian. "The more water you're able to drink now, the less it will hurt later. Between that and the mystery powder they supply us with for soaking … well, it will dull the pain to a tolerable state."

After David had said that, he'd brushed Sebastian's sweaty bangs off his forehead and moved to his own tub of heated water where he'd stripped and sunk down more quickly than Sebastian was hoping for. A not-as-quiet-as-he-hoped whimper of disappointment escaped him, causing a flush to spread across David's chest and creep up his face. Letting his eyes drift shut, Sebastian alternated flexing his hands, which ached terribly, and taking sips of the water.

At some point, he'd fallen asleep, only to be startled awake when the icy glass of water he'd balanced on his chest fell over. Blinking in confusion, Sebastian sat up and looked around the room, spotting David dressing in front of the mirror. He wore black wool pants and a crisp linen shirt with mother of pearl buttons which he was currently doing up. His royal blue dress uniform tunic had been laid out on their bed.

Catching Sebastian's eye in the mirror, David smiled and said, "You'll look like a dried plum if you don't get out soon."

"Um," Sebastian said with a yawn he covered with the back of his hand, "where are the towels?" Bending his knees to stand, Sebastian groaned loudly as the deep ache of muscles pushed past the limit shattered his thoughts. "This is going to be painful."

David turned and walked closer to Sebastian's bathing tub and snatched a towel off of the floor that had been within arm's reach of Sebastian. Crooking a finger, David beckoned him to stand up, and helped him to step out of the tub on to another towel. With deliberate care, he swiped the towel across and down Sebastian's body catching the droplets that cascaded downwards.

"A person could get used to this kind of treatment," Sebastian murmured, eyelids drifting shut again as David moved even lower.

Several minutes later, finished with his task, David dropped the towel on the floor and stood, cautiously sliding his hands around Sebastian's waist. "A person could … but you have to move into the bachelor's quarters now that you've passed the testing," he shared, tension creeping into his tone.

Sebastian stepped forward into David's embrace drawing him tight against his heated skin. "You sound less than pleased at the idea," he replied, combing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Dave's neck.

"I've grown used to your company," David admitted, lips brushing the skin of Sebastian's shoulder. "I don't want you to go. Not now. Not when –"

Sebastian's stomach tightened uncomfortably as guilt washed through him. He was leaving tomorrow night, though none but Lord Abrams knew this. "I don't have to move tonight, do I? Because I'm not eager to leave either."

Sebastian's words brought a small smile to David's lips. "No, not tonight. We still need to dine with the king, and who knows how long that will take. Probably tomorrow. The castle's staff will be sent to bring your things to your new room. You'll need to decide if you're taking everything, or just a few things."

"Think you can fit in my largest trunk?" Sebastian teased softly.

Sliding his hand to cup Sebastian's cheek, David leaned in and captured his lips in a slow, heated kiss. Loathe to break apart, David made himself pull away after several long minutes. "I have a feeling you'll figure out how to find your way back here. Do you have something to wear? I should have asked sooner."

Stopping David's nervous rambling with another kiss, Sebastian stepped away and moved to the wooden armoire David kept his clothing in. Opening the door, Sebastian pulled out the dark grey tunic he'd worn to Prince Finn's wedding. Not long ago, he'd asked the laundry staff to clean and press it in preparation for – well, nothing really. His preparation paid off, though.

It took mere minutes for Sebastian to pull on the clothing that had once been his daily attire. "A little tight in the arms," he muttered, buttoning the cuffs of his cream colored undertunic.

"It's to be expected, given how hard you've been training," David commented, gently squeezing Sebastian's biceps. "You should have the tailor remeasure you for your uniform and dress uniform. They can make up some dress shirts as well if you prefer this sort of clothing. I never seemed to get the hang of tying a tie, so it's dress uniforms for me."

A wicked look filled Sebastian's face. "There are many uses for ties … _Sir_. Perhaps I will have the opportunity to share some of them this evening. After we return."

Shaking his head, David pressed their foreheads together and sighed softly. "We've waited a long time for tonight, Sebastian. I'm not sure … I don't know …" Taking a deep breath, David tried to settle his thoughts. "I _want_ to spend tonight with you. But in case you hadn't noticed … I'm a man of simple tastes. In most things."

"David?" Sebastian whispered. When David met his gaze, Sebastian kissed him softly, nipping at his lower lip. "I understand."


	52. A Succulent Roast Goose

A/N: Hello! I have been so busy at work that I have had little time to breathe let alone write. But it is vacation for now, so I am using some of this time to put words to "paper". Thank you for hanging in there.

* * *

Sitting at the head of the wooden table, King Burt looked around with a deep sense of satisfaction. The young men and women seated at his private dining table represented some of the finest minds in the country and many of them would be departing for the countries that surround his kingdom to conduct important kingdom business and shore up relationships that might have grown lax in the winter months.

As was tradition, Prince Kurt sat to his father's right. Duke Blaine sat next to his lover, though he'd spent much of the time so far in quiet conversation with the beautiful woman next to him, Lady Santana, High Clerk of the kingdom. Blaine would be taking over her duties in her absence. On Lady Santana's other side, Lady Brittany, with her distracted smile, sat speaking with Knight Lieutenant Karofsky who, with Sir Sebastian Smythe, sat at the far end of the table, directly across from the king and Queen-Consort Carole.

Princess Rachel, deep in conversation with Queen Carole, had seated herself across from Prince Kurt. Her husband, Prince Finn was seated on her other side, next to the High Emissary, Alistair James and his husband, Sir Spencer Porter. This up-coming mission would be the first time they would be traveling together on official court business. Well, the first time since they'd officially announced their relationship years ago.

King Burt gazed down the table towards the newest member of the King's Army. Since his arrest at the wedding, Sir Smythe had lost his attitude, his family, and his sense of privilege. Instead, the men and women who served in the knighthood had managed to build up his belief in honor, loyalty, and brotherhood. Clearing his throat, King Burt called out, "How did you find the testing, Sir Sebastian?"

The others ceased speaking and all turned to look at Sir Sebastian who began to color at the attention. "It was … intense, Your Majesty," he managed to push out before grabbing for his water goblet and taking a large gulp.

"Then you are doing well to be able to lift that glass," King Burt observed with a chuckle. Turning to Prince Kurt, he added, "I heard there was an incident with one of the other candidates."

Swallowing his wine, Kurt rubbed at his eyebrow while letting out a sigh of frustration. "Ericksson. Couldn't let go of old hatreds. I dismissed him," he explained in clipped tones.

"That seems rather harsh," interjected Princess Rachel, sitting up straighter. "To dismiss someone who has worked so hard for so long. Could you not give him a second chance?"

Prince Kurt stared at his brother from across the table, willing him to answer the insanity of what his wife had just asked. Alas, like often happened, Prince Finn kept his mouth shut when it came to his wife, leaving Prince Kurt twisting in the wind.

"No, Rachel. That's _not_ an option. When we go into battle, we have to be able to trust the men and women who surround us. It is a visceral thing. And I can tell you, sitting at this table, that I wouldn't trust Ericksson in battle. Ever."

"But you can trust Sebastian?" she asked incredulously.

"And I trust **_Sir_** Smythe. With my life. With _your_ life. With that of my _father_ and my _lover_. Sir Sebastian has earned my trust. And we _all_ know that wasn't an easy thing to do. And yet he still managed to do so." Kurt leaned back as the kitchen staff began serving the main course of the meal.

"Thank you," Sebastian said quietly.

Kurt nodded in acknowledgment before digging into his food so he had something else to focus on. Blaine's left hand slid across his thigh in an attempt to dampen his frustration. Switching his fork to his left hand, Kurt dropped his hand down to his lap and intertwined their fingers together.

"I hear you also put on quite a display, Blaine." King Burt smiled warmly at the young man.

Blaine shrugged. "I've had excellent instructors, Your Majesty. And Sir Sebastian served as a strong partner in our duel with His Highness. But, given the choice, next time I'd prefer to watch." Grinning wryly, Blaine added, "It will take some time to recover from my injuries."

"Injuries?" Queen Carole asked with concern.

Glaring at Blaine, Kurt shook his head and met Carole's gaze. "He's exaggerating. Yes, I did cut him but it is little more than a scratch."

"I'd rather appreciate if you didn't further injure my future son-in-law, Kurt," teased King Burt.

Flushing, Kurt gave Blaine's hand a squeeze and reached for his wine goblet taking several hurried gulps.

"Have you become engaged?" asked Princess Rachel, eyes narrowed as she studied their hands. "I don't see any rings. Will you exchange engagement rings? I'm not sure what's considered proper for two men. Well, I don't suppose you could wait until after the formal celebration of the King's first grandchild to announce your engagement. I'm sure you're excited, but don't you think it is better if we focus on one thing before pulling attention to another significant event. Your wedding will need much planning and attention to detail, and I just think it's important to give our child," she dropped a hand on Prince Finn's arm and smiled up at him, "who will be third in line to the throne after Prince Kurt and Finn, a proper celebration. You'd only need to put off the announcement until midsummer."

An awkward silence had filled the room by the time Princess Rachel had finished her monologue. Fuming, it took Kurt several moments to realize he was squeezing Blaine's hand too tight. Consciously relaxing his fingers, he whispered, "sorry" to Blaine right before he was going to educate Rachel on the kingdom's rules of succession. Lady Santana beat him to it.

"Despite your illusions to the contrary, Princess, your child will never sit on the throne of this kingdom," Santana declared. "The rules of succession are quite clear. Only a Hummel may sit on the throne. So while Prince Finn carries the title Prince of the Kingdom, it is a title that was bestowed on him because of King Burt's generosity. He may share the rest of the benefits of the title of Prince, but succession is not one of them. If Kurt sires no children, or if he were to precede King Burt in death, the next king would be the fourteen year old son of King Burt's younger brother."

Two bright red circles formed on Princess Rachel's cheeks as she paled considerably. "I don't understand."

Queen Carole's expression of displeasure landed solely on her son. "It's quite clear, Rachel. I'm sorry if you expected otherwise and Finn should have made things clearer much sooner. While Burt and I are over the moon at having a grandchild grace the halls of this castle, what Lady Santana said is the truth. Neither Finn nor your child has claim to the throne of the kingdom. There will be a celebration, appropriate for the first grandchild of the king. But it won't be a celebration of a future heir. That remains the sole purview of the children Kurt and Blaine will bring forth."

Princess Rachel slumped back in her chair, folding her arms across her ample chest "But Blaine isn't a Hummel. How can a child he sires sit on the throne?" she argued.

Seeing that the majority of the table looked ready to throttle the Princess, Sebastian decided to try to defuse the situation. Clearing his throat and he drew the attention back to him. Looking directly at the princess, he explained, "Because, Princess, assuming that Duke Blaine marries His Highness, any children from that union would be considered Hummels. Even if they are sired by the duke. Five generations ago, King Frederick III was rendered impotent during a duel. It is common knowledge that his best friend, Earl LeDoux Herschel sired four children with the queen. But because the children were born by the queen, they legally were the King's progeny."

King Burt nodded at Sebastian, raising his wine goblet in a toast. "Well spoken, Sir Sebastian. But tell me, why is such esoteric knowledge of the kingdom's history at the tip of your tongue."

Sebastian could feel his cheeks heating yet again at the positive attention from the king. "As soon as I started my formal schooling, memorizing the history of the kingdom, the members of the court, and the order of succession became imperative. Failure to answer my father's obscure questions about which duke married which princess in order to move their family one step closer to the throne became justification for that day's beating."

"I thought I was the only one who had to memorize those names," muttered Blaine, shaking his head. "You weren't the only one who was beaten in an attempt to make your memory work better, Sebastian," Blaine added, lifting his own wine goblet in a wry toast.

Shakily standing up, Princess Rachel placed a pale hand on her husband's shoulder. "Would you escort me back to our quarters, Finn? I'd like to lie down. If you need to return, I wouldn't object," she said quietly.

After the princess and Prince Finn left, dinner conversation returned to a mild hum. Sebastian, however, sat quietly chewing his food as he mulled over the princess's words. Something didn't quite make sense.

"David?" he murmured softly, turning to speak closer to David's ear. "When is Princess Rachel's child due to arrive?"

David turned in his seat and leaned towards Sebastian, bringing their faces scant inches from each other. If they'd been elsewhere, David might have considered sneaking a kiss. "May. Mid May I've been told. Why?"

"May?" repeated Sebastian, surprised by that news. They'd been married less than three months. "Well, that will lead to some particularly interesting speculation from the court," he whispered.

"Indeed," Sir Karofsky agreed. "Have you tried the roasted goose?" Stabbing a piece of the pale flesh with his fork, he offered it up to Sebastian's lips. "I've never had anything quite so succulent."

"Feeding each other," commented Lady Lopez, her eyebrow raised high at the two knights. "Isn't that just the sweetest turn of events."

Seeing both men turning bright red in embarrassment, Blaine placed a hand on Lady Santana's arm and shook his head. He and Santana had an entire conversation with their eyes, before she conceded the point. Sir Karofsky and Sir Smythe were off limits. For now.

"Blaine?" called the soft voice of Queen Carole. "Have you and Santana had discussion regarding the official celebration of Rachel's child? Burt and I thought it might be best to hold it in late summer. Perhaps August or September. It would also give Santana, Kurt and Alistair time to return from their travels."

"And we could extend the invitations to our foreign neighbors when we meet with them," Alistair added.

Toying with his food, Blaine shook his head not looking up at the queen. "I asked the princess to have a discussion with you, Your Majesty. Only partially because I didn't feel it was _my_ duty … to explain the rules of succession to her."

"That was Finn's responsibility, not yours," Kurt grumbled. "You shouldn't have to deal with her incessant nattering in her latest quest to seek attention."

Blaine nudged Kurt with his elbow, noting that neither the king nor the queen chose to contradict the prince. "I can begin arrangements after the envoys leave. September, I think. Just in case there are delays."

"Blaine, you do know how much Carole and I appreciate what you do every day in your duties in the office of the High Clerk," offered King Burt.

Glancing and the king, Blaine nodded once. "Yes, sir. I'm just … not looking forward to Kurt's departure. Or, to be honest, additional seating charts. I'm not sure what goes in to the royal celebration of the birth of the king's grandchild, but I'm sure it involves seat charts. I'll begin taking care of things after the envoys leave, Your Majesties.

King Burt lifted his goblet and took a healthy swallow of the pale yellow wine within. "Kurt. Alistair. Santana. Let's discuss your plans to win over our foreign friends."

The rest of the dinner conversation focused on the impending departure of the king's most trusted advisors – which did little to allow Blaine's stomach to digest the wonderful meal.


	53. You're My Lighthouse

A/N: Greetings my friends. Thank you for your kind thoughts and words. Work has been a beast of late, though I am grateful for my job. I am looking forward to 2017, and having more balance &amp; writing time in my life. The good news is I got the voices in my head to start talking again (the boys were mad, I think, that I'd left them for so long). FYI: this chapter only deals with Sebastian &amp; Karofsky.

Warnings: Adult sexy times

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Walking down the stone hallway after their lengthy dinner with the king and queen, Sebastian was filled with nerves, his stomach tightening each time David's hand brushed his own. They were headed back to David's quarters and the anticipation was building. Sebastian noted how David greeted every soldier and guard they passed by name and asked about something personal to each man or woman.

"It's like you know _everyone_ in the castle," Sebastian commented softly as they reached an uninhabited stretch of hallway.

David looked startled for a moment before he chuckled. "It would seem so. Any man or woman who is allowed to carry a weapon this close to the royal family is known to me. And I spend enough time in the kitchens that I recognize most of the kitchen staff. But no, I don't know everyone. Would you say you know all the titled gentry?"

"Yes. If you brought them into the same room, I could tell you who each person is and their family history going back at least three generations," Sebastian explained with no hint of arrogance in his tone.

"Impressive."

"It's all part of the courtiers' game. I rather enjoy the bluntness of the Royal Army. No games. No secrets. If someone has a problem with you, they tell it to your face. It's a nice change." As they turned a corner, they found themselves in another empty stretch of hallway. Sebastian eyed the tapestries hanging nearby and a sly smile formed on his lips. "How well do you know the construction of this castle, David?"

David stopped walking and faced Sebastian. "As well as my job requires. Is there something you wanted to know?"

"More like … show you," Sebastian growled roughly as he grasped the front of David's dress uniform and tugged him forward until their noses brushed. Using his other hand, he lifted the tapestry, depicting the fall harvest season, from the wall revealing a hidden alcove. Stepping backwards with David in tow, they were plunged into complete darkness as soon as Sebastian let go of the tapestry.

Using one hand to feel his way over the stone walls, Sebastian employed the other to feel his way over David's chest, unbuttoning the heavy tunic he wore. "There's a seat to your right," he murmured, before gently claiming David's lips.

As Sebastian took his time to thoroughly kiss him, David found his legs growing shaky. Half-collapsing onto the stone bench, he pulled Sebastian to stand between his knees breaking their kiss after several long minutes. "How, may I ask, did you have knowledge of such a place?" David asked jealously.

Unable to see his expression, Sebastian cupped David's face with his hands and shushed him softly. "Your jealousy stirs things in me," he rasped, finding David's lips and tracing them lightly with his tongue.

David moaned, reaching out to grip Sebastian's hips.

Pulling back, Sebastian explained, "It was Sir Puckerman. Sharing stories involving one of his conquests. He described the harvest tapestry and his rather unfortunate obsession with the breasts of one of the milkmaids depicted therein."

"Oh," David grunted. Slipping his fingers into the top of Sebastian's hose, he ran them toward the front until he found the laces that held them in place, and quickly untied them allowing Sebastian to spring free. Tugging the man down to sit across his lap, David wrapped his hand around Sebastian's cock, taking his time to learn the feel of the warm stiffness.

"You're killing me," hissed Sebastian as he dropped his head back into the crook of David's shoulder.

Turning his head, David nipped at the cords on Sebastian's neck, drawing out another low, long groan. "What did you expect would happen, Bastian, when you dragged me into such a secretive place? What did you want to happen?"

Sebastian snuck an arm around David's neck holding his mouth to Sebastian's neck while his hips began to thrust into David's fist. "Shit. I don't know. I want you, David. All of you."

"I'm going to fuck you, Sebastian," growled David, tightening his grip.

"Yes!" whimpered Sebastian.

"But we're not exactly well supplied _here_," David tsked.

"We don't-"

"I'm not taking any chance of hurting you," David insisted. He dropped his other hand down to fondle Sebastian's balls. "So you can come here in this lover's alcove and then we'll go to our quarters, and I'll bury myself in your tight ass while you whimper and keen, calling my name. And then, after we rest for a bit, I think I'd like you to fuck me. If you're okay with that," he murmured.

Sebastian's breathing came out in harsh pants just before his hips snapped forward for the last time as he released over David's hand and the wall he couldn't see. David claimed his mouth, tongues battling until they gave way to a languid slide. When he'd finally caught his breath, Sebastian moved. But rather than standing, he slid to his knees in front of David. "Loosen your pants," he demanded. "I'd do it myself, but I can't see anything and I've never divested a man of his dress uniform before."

A few moments later, the blistering heat of Sebastian's mouth surrounded David's cock as he slumped against the chilly stone wall behind him. Letting out a shuddering breath, David entangled his fingers in the soft hair that Sebastian wore longer than most soldiers, guiding, not forcing, his movements.

_"__Rachel! Please stop a moment!"_ came Prince Finn's voice, echoing down the hallway.

Startled, Sebastian's head jerked back and he just remembered to watch his teeth. "Fuck," he hissed as heavy footsteps and another clicking set grew nearer. His shock grew when David guided him back to his lap, knocking his heavy erection against Sebastian's cheek several times in encouragement. As quietly as possible, Sebastian engulfed David again, giving a hard suck as he drew his lips up the length of cock.

_"__I don't care what you say, Finn. I'm going to have a conversation with your mother. She can't have known about this disturbing rule of succession. She'll agree with me and speak with the king. Our child should have an equal chance to sit on the throne – maybe more so, because he or she will be firstborn."_

_"__Rachel, my mother knows. She's always known. I've known. King Burt has always treated me as a son, but he isn't my father. You need to let this go – for your health and the baby's."_

Sebastian had scant warning – a tightening of the hand in his hair, a slight swelling of David's cock, before he was swallowing David's seed. Sebastian had never been with someone who could come in complete silence.

_"__I'm only trying to think of our baby, Finn,"_ said Rachel petulantly.

_"__I'm not sure that's true, Rachel. It seems to a lot of us that what you want are big parties where all the attention is focused on you_," answered an exasperated Finn.

The sound of a slap broke the air and then Rachel, in tears, running down the hallway followed by a shouting Finn.

On shaky legs, Sebastian stood and peeked out of the alcove. "They're gone," he said quietly, working the laces on his hose back into place. He could hear David straightening his own clothing moments before a strong arm wrapped around his waist and tugged him closer.

"That was quite the interlude," David murmured, nipping at Sebastian's ear lobe.

"Mmm," hummed Sebastian. "That's good to hear. I was a bit nervous given how quiet you became. You're going to have to teach me your secret to staying so silent."

Cupping Sebastian's cheek, David pressed a warm kiss to his lips. "Sex in close quarters has a way of making one more quiet than one might be elsewhere. I think you might see the difference when we're behind closed doors. Versus this very thin tapestry. With the Prince and Princess but five steps away."

Sebastian peeked out once more, then held the tapestry away from the wall so David could move out of the alcove. Shyly, he held his hand out to David, who took it and interlaced their fingers. "I'm looking forward to testing your theory, Sir Karofsky. Among other things." They hurried down the hallway towards Sir Karofsky's quarters.

David looked over at Sebastian, smiling softly. "I've been looking forward to this night for more days, and nights, than I care to admit. Bastian, I'm leaving in five days' time for an undetermined amount of time. But I need you to know that … that you're my lighthouse."

"Lighthouse?"

"You understand the concept of a lighthouse, right? It provides the light needed for a ship to get safely into harbor." Outside the door to his quarters, Sir Karofsky stopped and gazed into Sebastian's eyes. "I've always come home because it was my duty. But now, well, now I have you here. Like a lighthouse. Guiding me home."

Swallowing hard, Sebastian used his free hand to swipe at the moisture gathering at the corner of his eyes. "I need you to know," Sebastian answered gruffly, "that you're _my_ lighthouse. And I will _always_ fight to come home to you as well."

Turning the doorknob, David let them in to the small quarters they'd shared for weeks, for one night of togetherness before Sebastian moved to the bachelors' barracks.

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End Note: Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. I don't think I'll have another posting until after Christmas, mostly because the next chapter involves sexy times between Kurt &amp; Blaine and I find it difficult to write words like "cock" while my kids or mother are nearby. Laugh. I am. I'd like to wish you all a peaceful, joyous end to 2016. -k8


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